Random Numbers
by When We Stand Together
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose, seemingly killing people at random. Better and longer summary inside.
1. Lindsay Bundy

**AN: So this is a little different story than what I've written before. It's really dark and deal with murders. Even some angst and cutting will be thrown into here. I got inspired when i saw this movie 'Message Deleted' (I think that's the name) and I've always been interested in crime shows, like 'Criminal Minds'.**

**Originally, I wanted to wait to post this untill 'Scarred' was done but there are many more chapters to that story and once I started writing this, I couldn't stop. I wanted to see were this was going and as I started to write, I thought I hade the whole story planned out but now everything has changed and it's thrilling. **

**Little facts about the story: **

**As a 23 year old college student, Bella lives a relatively normal life. Her father works for the FBI, along with one of her closest friends, Edward. Who she also happens to be seeing secretly. A serial killer is on the loose, killing people at random. As there seems to be no lead, Bella might give the FBI a hand. **

**I know it is a weird summary but if saw the story as I see it, you would have some trouble too. I'm going to try to get the first" chapter started today. I'm very into this story at the moment so hopefully, it wont be long before it actually starts. **

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_Unknown _

She let out another scream from the top of her lunges. But it was hoarse now. I smiled at that. She was getting tired.

"Please," she pleaded again, for the hundredth time. It was pathetic how low she could sink. She should know by now that I wasn't going to let her leave. I heard her sniffing start up again and I rolled my eyes whilst sitting still in my chair.

"I just want to go home." This I had a hard time understanding. Why would she say that? Is it genuine or maybe it's just something you say because you long for the childhood home of security?

She was getting quieter for ever minute that passed. She must be getting tired. She haven't eaten in two days. That must wear out some people.

Pathetic. Why should she even think about going back to that place? I'm practically giving her a favor. She doesn't deserve to live. Her life is useless to society. Why would she want to continue it?

I got up from my chair and started walking around the room. It must have frightened her. I had been sitting down for over an hour.

"What did I do?" She whimpered pathetically. I stopped walking, turned to her and cocked my head.

What had she done? Was she that clueless? That ignorant about her own life? Wow… I really did make the right choice.

I took a deep breath and ran my hands over my face. I was tired. I hadn't slept in 30 hours. My shoulders ached and I cracked my neck. Ah, that felt good.

I brought out my cell phone and looked at the clock. It was time. It would be foolish to drag it out even longer than I already have. I should get going. It's still late, or really early, depending on how you see it.

I slowly turned towards the girl. Watching how she flinched under my gaze. I wonder how she felt now. Terrified beyond belief? If I were normal, I would be. Locked up in a room with someone who had just kidnapped me and refused to show me the real face.

I always covered up myself in dark clothing. It gave a sense of false hope, in the beginning. Most kidnappers don't reveal their face for fear their victim will identify them later. But there wouldn't be a later for my victims. This was actually the first time I've ever kidnapped anyone. It was easier that I would have thought. A little chloroform on a napkin, cover the mouth and wait until the body goes limp.

I walked towards her. Out of amusement, I had locked her up in a somewhat large dog cage. She was in an awkward position. I suppose I would be too, being stuck in there for two days. The thought made me slightly claustrophobic. Never the less, I couldn't be bothered by that now. I had to make a move.

I turned the light on right above and then bumped my foot against the base of the cage, rattling it and she sat up with a frightened stare. I took out a small key, ultimately opening the lock and then the door. She simply stared at it, like a fool. I started getting impatient when she wouldn't leave the cage. I sat down and reached forward. She whimpered as my hands close in on her arm. I wasn't even holding that hard.

I got her out, without any help from her. Why couldn't she see that I was doing her a favor? There are so many things worse than death. In her case, death will be a blessing to what I could be doing right now.

Ragging her to her feet, she started to cry again. I sighed quietly and impatiently. She stumbled over her own feet but I never stopped walking. We came to a metal staircase which would lead two stories down and to a long and seemingly never-ending hallway.

Then something happened that I – shamefully- did not expect to happen. When I was about to take the first step down the stairs, the girl got out of my grasp and pushed me – quite hard – into the opposite wall. I grunted as I made impact with the cold cement and shifted to the ground. My vision blurred for one second and she took off downstairs.

I hissed in anger and could hear her failed attempt at getting down without falling. I smirked. She wouldn't be going far. I made my way down, one step at a time, dangerously slow. This made them panic. Think I was one step behind, make them run faster, make them trip. The slower I walked, the more I got closer.

She did fall, a lot. Stupid girl, I sneered in my minds. She would pay for what she did. I stopped before I went into the hallway. No doubt, she would now have stopped and turned around, baffled as to why I wasn't running behind her. I started to smile and chose a concealed door at my left.

It took be beyond her and I opened a door quietly. My smile pronounced as I saw that she was indeed watching behind herself. I got out and walked slowly towards her, stopping three feet away. It was like in a bad horror movie. She turned around slowly and screamed as she saw me. She turned on her heal and scurried down a different hall and through a door.

I knew where that one lead. I ran after her this time, eager for things to start happening. Another flight of stairs, both up and down, greeted as and she started going up. I grabbed a hold of her hair and lounged her down. She sniffed and tried to kick me. Bad move. I grabbed her hair again, with mush more force. I dragged her to the edge on the stairs and threw her down like a rag doll.

She cried as she tried to stop her fall with her hands. But it was too later. I heard her head make contact with the metal bar. The snap that followed made me shiver and smile. Her body fell limp on the ground, her eyes open and staring at me. I walked down slowly, needing to be extra sure. Her eyes had dilated and her pulse was gone.

It was over.

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**AN: I would love to get your opinions. Do you want more gore? I have ten years of watching horror movies under my belt and plus, I'm a huge SAW fan. There will be more POVs from the killer. I assume you have all realized that this is a little weird person. Truly fucked up. **


	2. Ignorance Is A Bliss

**AN: Since I know I have some issues with grammar and that I tend to write really fast and only look twice if a word has a red line underneath it, I have paid extra attention to this chapter. I ****really hate it myself when grammar and words are off and I strive to be better. However, I can't promise it will be completely without errors. I am only human. I'll probably look it over once more... later on **

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_Ignorance Is A Bliss_

**  
BPOV **

_BEEP _

I groaned and rolled over, grabbing my pillow and shoving it over my head.

_BEEP __BEEP _

"No," I moaned.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP _

I growled, yanking the covers off and slammed my hand down on the offensive device.

6:15 fucking a.m.

"Fucking psychology," I grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Shut up." Looking at my right, Edward rolled over and stuffed his face into the pillow. I rolled my eyes and fell back. I felt my eyes closing. What would another five more minutes hurt?

"You're just gonna fall asleep again," he mumbled.

"Am not," I said tiredly with a sigh, already feeling myself slipping into unconsciousness.

"Yes you are," he said, speaking more clearly. "And then, you'll oversleep, have to stress and run to class. Then you'll probably trip and hurt yourself and then, when you get back, you'll come to the conclusion that this was somehow my fault and I'm not falling for that again." The bed thumped as he let his head fall back down. I plopped my eyes open and looked over at him, pursing my lips.

"You're in a particularly pissy mood this morning."

"Because this is probably the first time in forever that I get to start work at nine, not seven, and I really want to sleep in."

I sighed deeply, throwing my covers off me and slung my legs over the side of the bed. Before I had time to get off, a hand grabbed my arm and dragged me back. I chuckled.

"I thought you said you wanted to sleep in," I murmured and turned his way. His eyes were still closed but his arm wound around my waist, bringing me closer to him, resting his head against my shoulder.

"But that's so much better if you're here." I could hear he was about to fall asleep again.

"But then I'll just complain later. Do you really want that?" He sighed softly.

"I guess not." Edward released his hold on my waist and I got off the bed. He was asleep by the time I reached the bathroom.

I flipped the light on and cringed at my reflection. Hmm… to shower or not to shower, that is the question. Fuck it. I turned the knobs, getting the temperature right and yawned my way to the water.

I was tired enough that I almost conditioned my hair with soap. That would not have been pretty. I rewarded myself for noticing this catastrophe by staying another few minutes, just letting the water flow down my back.

The heat had fogged the mirror, making me itch to write on it. I did that once. When Alice then used the shower and got out, she thought there was a ghost. That was the funniest five minutes of that week. Sad, but true.

Alice is my roommate, or, at least, one of them. We shared this small house together. Angela, an old friend of ours since, like, birth, also lived here. But not now. This morning, the house was all mine. Hence, Edward staying here. Not sure what Alice or Angela would say if they saw him here. Edward and I weren't exactly supposed to see each other, privately. At least not in bed, without any clothes.

It's not like he's my teacher or something. He's working with my dad. Charlie likes Edward but if he found out what Edward did to his "little girl" most nights of the week, he wouldn't hesitate to use his gun.

Let me elaborate; Charlie is a cop… okay, maybe a loose explanation. He works for the FBI. Homicide cases. Just like Edward. That last part probably wasn't a shocker. Guess who introduced us?

I shook my head, getting out of my daydreams and reached for a towel. I dried myself quickly and wrapped the towel around myself, grabbing another for my hair. I tip-toed into my room, not just because I didn't want to wake Edward, but because the floor was so cold it send shivers though my spine. I needed rugs and lots of them!

As I opened my closet doors and looked over the rows and rows of clothes, I thought why I was even in this fucking class to begin with. Well… I did love it. Behavioral psychology was probably one of the most interesting things I have ever studied. The human mind is fascinating. How we can be driven to do something some of us would shudder to even think of.

I grabbed a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a purple tan top and a long forest green cardigan. As I sat down to put on some socks, a phone started to vibrate on my bedside table. At first I thought it was mine, that somehow, I stayed in the shower for over an hour and the class had already begun. I smiled when I saw I was wrong.

I grabbed the device and laughed as I looked at the number.

"Ed," I whispered. He mumbled something in return. "Edward," I said a little louder.

"Wha- at?"

"You're phones ringing," I said in a natural voice and tossed the phone at him, getting off the bed. Sitting up, Edward looked at the screen and groaned loudly before answering.

"Yeah Swan?" I shook my head, grabbing my bag and shoving my things in. I never could understand why they had to call each other by their last names.

"Shit," he whispered, already grabbing for his clothes.

"No it's fine. I'm on my way." He hung up and pulled his shirt on.

"What now?" When he didn't say anything I huffed and left the room.

It took five minutes for him to make his way down to the kitchen. By then, I had already swiped half a Red Bull and was on my first raspberry yoghurt. I lifted myself onto the counter and let him flit around, grabbing himself a pop tar before speaking.

"I'm not a fucking kid," I blurted out. Edward stopped and raised his eyebrows at me.

"Yeah… I know," he said warily.

"So don't treat me like one. Fuck, you remind me so much of-" I cut myself off, looking down. He knew what I meant.

"Just because I wouldn't tell you what the call was about?"

"Exactly because you wouldn't tell be what the call was about."

"I don't have time for this. I've gotta go."

"Whatever," I muttered as he practically ran for the door. I winced as I heard the car door slammed shut with too much force and then again as the wheels screeched against the asphalt. I finished my Red Bull and threw out the rest of my yoghurt. My appetite was gone.

As I had nothing better to do, I grabbed my Pavilion from the coffee table, shoved it into my bag and got my jacket.

I started shivering as soon as I stepped out the door. My breath fogged in my face, making it even harder to see where I was going. Winter had passed, technically. It was late January and while the snow was gone, the cold remained.

I plopped my headphones in and listened to Lady GaGa's Bat Romance as I slowly crept towards the school.

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**  
EPOV **

I slammed the door to my car and hit the steering wheel with both my hands. It wasn't the first time we've had this fight. She thinks I'm treating her as a child – which is ridiculous. How can she not understand that I'm just trying to protect her? She didn't want to see or hear about what I did almost every day. I pinched the bridge of my nose and turned the key. The heat blasted from the air-conditioning as I drove of way too quickly.

I had to take a detour. The crime scene was barely ten minutes from here but my apartment was twenty minutes from Bella's and I couldn't blame it all on good traffic.

I was a stupid fuck. Not only was I probably violating several agency protocols, but I was violating Charlie's trust. He had always treated me like a friend and I return the favor by screwing his daughter. I really was a selfish stupid fuck.

The only defense I have is that I can't stay away from her. I tried, so fucking badly but I caved, like I assume many have before me. She can go and piss you of and the next minute look up at you with those big doe eyes and everything is forgotten.

I shook my head, trying to keep myself from daydreaming and used my time to look over what Charlie had told me on the phone.

A girl, barely twenty, found in an alley by a homeless man. It was little information but it meant so much. It always got to me I got a new call about a new case. I always shrugged off any real emotions as I got to the scene. A good agent never lost focus. But it was hard. Especially if kids were involved. I didn't really like kids. They were high maintenance and always seemed to be screaming at something. But when a 6 year old is found in a lake with a thoroughly mutilated body, anyone would shake with rage.

I decided enough time had passed and turned the car towards the right direction.

The street was surprisingly quiet by the time I drove up to the curb. A few people stopped as they saw the ambulance and some just gave it a side by glance.

I stepped out, showed my credentials and they let me pass the yellow tape. Charlie hovered over the coroner as he got to work. My eyes fixed on the pale body, lying face up, eyes staring right at you. She had platinum blonde hair, stained with grease and dirt. Her too small red dress was ripped in some places and it too was covered in dirt. But what immediately caught my eyes as I closed up was a word, written across her chest.

_Whore_

"Liver temperature suggests that she died approximately eleven hours ago." The coroner said and stood up.

"Her neck is broken. She died instantly and without any pain." He looked at the girl with somber eyes.

"Anything else?"Charlie asked.

"Yes. The cuts on the victim's chest, I can tell right now, were made post humorously. You see that by the lack of blood. I can't tell you anything more than that right now. I need to do an autopsy to properly confirm any other to cause death." Both Charlie and I nodded and the coroner walked away, giving us some time.

"You got here quick."

"Light traffic," I shrugged off quickly. "So what do we have here?"

"Well… you heard Avery. Besides that, we don't have much to go on. There is no ID on her. No purse or any other belongings. She didn't even have shoes on her." I got closer, hunching down and putting on some white gloves. I gently touched the wound on her chest. It was pretty deep. Enough to cause massive bleeding if the victim had still been alive.

I got up and walked over to her feet. They were dirty, much more so than the rest of her. The soles right beneath her toes were torn, as if she'd been walking a long time without any support from shoes.

"Did you find any shoes?" I asked, looking up. Charlie shook his head.

"We've searched the close area. Nothing had been found that could belong to this case."

"She was probably killed somewhere else," I muttered, standing up.

"What makes you say that?"

"For one; she doesn't have any shoes and I don't think anyone in their right mind would ever walk around; wear this little and have no shoes. Even if she was homeless, no one has that much pride to walk around in this cold and not to go to a shelter of some form and they'd be sure to give her something." Charlie nodded, agreeing. "Of course, the one who killed her could have taken them but for what reason?"

"Trophy?" I shook my head.

"It seems very unlikely that a killer would take shoes as a trophy. They turn more towards a lock of the hair or maybe a piece of jewelry the victim was wearing." Charlie remained quiet, pensive.

"Second; see that mark on her forehead?" I removed some hair to make it easier to spot. "Looks like rust. I don't see anything here that could make this mark.

"We'll have to wait for the toxicology report and an official autopsy. She could have been drugged and then have her neck snapped."

"True. But the 'whore' part, I can't figure out." I thought about it for a moment.

"Maybe she was a prostitute," I suggested.

"Maybe. Get someone to sweep the entire alley again, for precautions. We'll have to run her fingerprints through records and see if she has a past."

"Should we give her picture out to the media?"

"No," he shook his head. "The media probably already knows there's been a murder. We don't need to give them any ammo. Besides, if this girl has a family, I don't want them to find out this way." I agreed and we watched the coroner get the girl in a black body bag and onto a gurney.

I stayed behind to watch the ambulance leave and then help sweep the alley one more time.

An hour later, nothing had come up. No knife that could have caused the marks. Nor were they any shoes of any kind. She _must_ have been dumped here.

I got back to my car and took out my cell phone. I sent Bella a quick text. I needed to be distracted.

_Still mad at me? _

I put the key in the ignition and drove off, slower this time. As I got to the garage at the bureau, my pocket vibrated and I sat still in the car.

_Definitely _

I smiled. She's so stubborn. But I knew enough not to anger her further by texting back, saying something like; you know you can't be mad at me. She couldn't, but she didn't need to know that right now.

I walked through the garage, up the elevator and towards my office with my head filled with all things Bella. I groaned as I sat down, realizing I had to write a report. This was by far the most demanding thing of this job. I always thought this when I had to sit still and write. But every time I was looking at a dead person, paperwork seemed like a blessing.

**

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**

BPOV

My eyes were dropping dangerously low and my head dipped as they shut. I sat up straight, my eyes wide and I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn't. But that's what happens when the teacher is sick and we have to see a documentary we've already seen once.

I turned my eyes back to my laptop. I could continue writing in my essay that wasn't due for another two weeks. I had already written enough words for three pages. But I couldn't handle any more insight to Bundy's minds. It was fascinating but there is such a thing as too much.

The rest of class went by in a daze. I nodded off a few times and started playing chess. The computer won every time. I think it's rigged.

When the clock finally turned eleven, everyone was so dazed and tired they all moved in slow motion. Outside; I shivered as the cold air hit my exposed throat and zipped up my jacket and threw on my lime-green mitts.

After school, I had to work. I can admit that working at Walmart seems like a dead end but don't be too quick to judge. They have flexible hours and the pay isn't so bad either. Besides, I can't live off my heritance forever. When my grandmother died, mother's mother that is, she left me all her assets to receive when I turned 18. So far, I've only touched enough to pay for the house.

As I had just gotten inside the locker room and was ready to change into my blue vest, I froze as a familiar tone entered my ears.

_When I had you to myself_

_I didn't want you around_

_Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd_

_But someone picked you from the bunch_

_One__ glance was all it took_

_Now it's much too late for me to take a second look_

I scrambled to get to my phone which was buried at the bottom of my bag.

"Yeah?" I asked without looking at the display.

"I'm all sad and lonely," Alice whined and I could practically see her pout.

"Isn't this a call you should have with Jasper?" I teased and sat down on a cold bench.

"That's the reason I'm calling. Jasper left for the weekend. I was going home but his place is so much better. I love this penthouse," her voice sounded distant. "Will you hate me if I stay here the weekend?"

"No. Of course not," I said, trying not to sound too happy. "You'll be alright there by yourself?"

"Yeah I'll be fine. I just feel bad for leaving you all alone the weekend." I raised an eyebrow.

"Where's Angela?"

"She called me before, said she'll be working the entire weekend. You know, I think she's seeing her boss. Quite the scandal for the innocent one." I snickered.

"It's like we have the same mind."

"That'd be so weird."

"But really cool. I'm sure I can find some way to entertain myself."

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I bit my lip, pondering if I should call Edward or make him sweat a bit longer. I put the phone away. He always got so cocky whenever I caved first.

Stacking shelves sucked big time. Everyone stared at you like you're a freak and the embarrassment was duplicated whenever you had to stack things like tampons and pads. That's when people didn't just stare but giggled and pointed fingers. I hated fourteen year olds. I always wanted to yell to them that they would soon be joining the hell of the month club.

And don't forget when an unsupervised kid goes and just has to have the product at the top – even though the exact same one is on a lower and closer shelf – getting the entire line of Batman shampoos to fall and most of them to break. That's always lovely to clean up.

I always groan and tell the kid to be more careful. That's then the "concerned" parent comes along and looks at me with judgmental eyes. Like it's dreadful that I would ever raise my voice to a child. Then he shouldn't have climbed on the shelf on the first place!

I was stacking the last of the hairsprays when a loud crash from the aisle behind me made me jump. I turned, walked closer and sighed. A five year old girl was standing on the bottom shelf, reaching for another framed picture of Winnie the Pooh. One already lay on the floor, the glass shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. I was too annoyed to see that another one was spiraling down and crashing onto the floor as well.

I started jogging, as the girl hopped down with an unharmed picture, looking quite proud of herself. I grimaced.

"Thanks kid," I said as she passed. She looking up at me and smiled. I grumbled, walking away to get a brush.

"People should get leashes for their offspring," I said as I shoved the broom back into the cleaning closet.

"Amen to that," Lauren, another coworker, said and took a bite of her half eaten sandwich.

"Seriously. How can parents just let them wander free in the store? They should pay for the mess they made."

"Relax. It's not like you do."

"No, but I get to clean it up."

I didn't get off until nine. It had been a long night and my back and legs groaned as I sat down to remove my vest and get my other shoes. I wrapped my scarf extra tight around my throat and plopped in my headphones. I never could do much by myself without music.

It was getting dark and I hurried down the street. I had to pass through the park. It was the fastest way home. Otherwise I would be looking at another ten minutes out here in the chilling cold and excruciatingly creepy evening.

I practically ran through the park, not looking either way and letting my mind fill with Nickelback. It wasn't until I was on the other side that I slowed down a bit and turned down the music to a pleasing tone.

The porch light was off, I could tell from a few houses away. Angela must have already left. She worked part time at a local bar, about forty minutes from here. She did well for only working nights. All I could tell was that she really loved that job. But I doubted it had anything to do with the people coming there.

I sighed in relief as I walked up the porch stairs and sifted through the mail I just retrieved. I stopped as I looked through the bunch.

It wasn't until a hand came down on my shoulder that I noticed another presence. I screamed and whirled around, dropping everything in my hands and my back made a hard impact with the front door.

"Hey, hey… it's okay. It's just me," Edward spoke softly, careful not to invade my personal space. I closed my eyes and ran a mitt covered over my face, letting it settle on my forehead.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked harsher than I intended to. I saw him hesitate and it made me feel guilty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," I apologized and dropped down to get my junk mail and bills. I stood up and waited for him to speak. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. I hated it when he did this.

"I just… I really needed to see you. But if you want me to leave, I'll leave." He made to turn around and walk away but I reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned back to me. I looked behind me and started to speak but he cut me off.

"I parked it a block away." I nodded and opened the door. We were careful not to make errors like have him park his car right by my house. On the occasions that Charlie did stop by unannounced, we didn't want to have to explain why Edward was here. I didn't have a car so no problem there.

The house was dark and I dropped my coat on a hanger before turning the light on in the kitchen.

Edward draped his jacket over the couch, seeming to hesitate.

"Alice won't be home tonight. And Angela's at work. Both won't be home tonight. You can stay, if you want." I hated how I sounded. Like a fifteen year old asking her new boyfriend to stay the night as her parents were oblivious.

"Thought you were mad at me," he murmured. He'd moved closer and was standing right in front of me, pinning me to the counter, his hands on either side of my body.

I shrugged lightly, placing my own hands on the counter as well, right next to his.

"I don't want to have the same fight over and over again," I said softly, as if a higher sound would shatter the mood. Edward nodded.

I reached out with one hand and hooked my finger through his belt loop, bringing him even closer. I never could talk about my feelings easily. It made me feel weak. There were a lot of things that I've told Edward that I've never told anyone else. But there were also a lot of things I haven't told him.

I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. I tried once again but this time Edward cut me off.

"Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" I was taken aback by his statement.

"Yeah well… I am amazing." He smirked. "Rough day at work?" I asked. It was all I could think of to say. I looked up at him and bit my bottom lip.

"You have no idea," he answered. "But don't change the subject. I need you to know that I care about you so much. Right now, you're the most important thing I have. Don't ever forget that. Okay?" I nodded.

"Okay." He leaned down and I reached up, brining my hand to the back of his neck, pushing his head down faster. Our lips moved fast, our tongues intertwining and he was pressing me so hard against the counter I knew it was going to leave marks on the small of my back.

was panting as Edward's mouth moved from mine down my yaw and to my neck. I placed me hands on the counter and fished myself up so he wouldn't have to reach too long. But I put his mouth to better use.

I started unbuttoning his shirt and he pulled away to drag the hem of mine over my head. I shivered as the air hit my overheated skin. I grew impatient and ripped the last buttons and practically clawed the shirt off of him. He grinned cockily and I raised an eyebrow, crashing my lips against his again.

"So eager," he laughed and nibbled at my neck. I smirked, wrapped my legs around his waist and ground into him. He groaned and thrust his hips into mine. My head fell back, hitting the cabinet, and a low moan broke from my lips.

I dragged my nails down his chest and started unbuttoning his jeans. My pants, I realized, was already gone. My bra fell away next and before I knew it, I was whimpering as Edward mouth descended onto my left nipple.

I kept his mouth on me with a death grip on his hair. I knew my nails dug into his scalp but the only response I got was a moan which vibrated through me.

Before I knew it, we were moving. Edward grabbed me and held me up as he moved across the kitchen. We bumped into the fridge and I smiled while Edward chuckled. A few magnets fell away. We stumbled into the living room; my bedroom was too far away. The breath left my lunges as I fell back on the couch, Edward right on top of me.

He started kissing my neck, down my chest and down my stomach. He dipped his tongues into my navel and nibbled the skin. I gasped and shuddered at the feeling. My stomach tightened in the most delicious way.

My heart was pounding in my chest, like it did every time Edward touched me. His fingertips ghosted over my hips, settling on the edge of my underwear. He slowly dragged them down, kissing my leg in the fabrics wake.

Edward sat up on his knees, looking over me. It room was mostly in darkness but the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the hardwood floor. His warm hands came down on my knees, easing my legs apart. I smirked and bit my lip in anticipation.

The next second, he dove in and my eyes widened and then closed in pleasure.

"Edward," I moaned and then whimpered as he took my clit in his mouth and tugged. The things he could do with his tongue…

"Ah!" I moaned as his tongue penetrated me and a finger joined in. "Fuck!" I grabbed his hair and tugged him closer. His tongue worked my overheated flesh; licking, sucking and even nibbling.

I clenched and unclenched around him, moaning like a crazy person. I thrashed my head from side to side, trying not to move my hips, so that I could get more of this unbelievable pleasure.

I was literally on the edge when he suddenly stopped. My eyes snapped open and I looked down.

"What the fuck! Don't stop!" I whimpered. Edward didn't answer but moved so quickly, I never saw him move up and thrust into me. I screamed in pleasure.

My nails raked down his back, leaving marks, I'm sure. He groaned and picked up his pace, slamming into me. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room. Both our breathings were uneven and breathless.

Edward grabbed the back of my knee, pulling my leg up and over his shoulder. My moan turned low and I continued to move my hips against his.

Spots began to appear in front of my eyes and I knew I would come any second. One more thrust and I arched my back and my eyes rolled back into my head. Edward stilled above me, panting and he rested most of his weight on me. My head fell back on the couch and I closed my eyes in the aftermath.

We lay there for a long time. Still intertwined and still very naked. I would have to dry-clean the couch. I must have fallen asleep for when I woke up; I was in my own bed and in one of Edward's old t-shirts.

Edward was nowhere in sight.

* * *

**AN: ****Was it what you expected? Less? More? **

**I wasn't at all planning on having a lemon in here but ****sometimes it's just the right time… **

**So this was a long one… eleven pages! ****More than 5000 words! That's not too shabby. **

**Anywho… I'm currently reading **_**The Third Victim**_** by Lisa Gardner. Her books are works of a genius and I highly recommend any or all of them. I've only read three, on my fourth now but if you've got the time, pick one up because I guarantee you won't put it down until it's finished. Right now, this is where I get most of my inspiration. **


	3. Scrambled Images

**AN: I don't think I've written a chapter this long, this fast. I'm quite amazed with myself. I just want these first chapters out of the way so we can get to the really fun parts. **

**Wow that sounded so morbid, like I want people to die. Even if it's just a story. I'll try to work in some background into my little characters but it's going to take a little time. **

* * *

_Scrambled Images _

**  
EPOV **

"We may have a possible id."

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Bella stirred at my left and I looked over to see if I had waked her up. She sighed and turned on her side, away from me, still very much asleep.

"What?" I asked hoarsely in a whisper.

"I said we may have a positive id for the alley victim. Why are you whispering?" I looked over to the nightstand. I groaned internally.

"It's seven a.m. On a Saturday-"

"Doesn't matter. We're meeting with the parents in two hours. Meet me at the office in one." He hung up and I, dumbfounded, flipped my phone shut and rubbed my forehead. I got up and went downstairs to retrieve most of my clothes. I grinned as I saw the slight mess we'd made. Refrigerator magnets lay strewn all over the kitchen floor, a lamp had been knocked over and various pieces of clothes occupied the floor.

I grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet next to the microwave and then left. It was quiet on the roads. Most normal people were still sleeping. Lucky bastards.

Taking yet another detour, I plopped in my iPhone and turned on CNN.

"_Breaking news; a body was found yesterday morning in downtown Chicago. The police have yet to release any information regarding the investigation. But a reliable source tells us the body was female and that she had been murdered. Stay tuned for more information."_

"Fuck," I muttered. I stepped on the gas pedal and soared down the road, getting to the office way too quickly.

----------------

"Did you watch the news?" I asked Charlie as I walked into his office. He was hunched down on his desk, writing fast on a piece of paper.

"Yeah," he said without looking up. "We need to keep things more under wraps. We don't want people to panic, thinking there's a serial killer on the loose."

"Did you sleep here?" I asked, astonished, as I saw the pillow and blanket that lay across the tacky dark blue couch.

"Yeah. Didn't have time to go home. I want this case to close."

"It won't help if you run yourself out because of it. Have you eaten?" Charlie shook his head.

"You're going to crash," I warned. He ignored me.

"Okay. Let's go over it one more time." I sighed.

"The victim was killed approximately 9 p.m. the day before yesterday. She-" I stopped. "Have we gotten anything back from Avery?" Charlie shook his head. "She was most likely murdered somewhere else and dumped in the alley. Her neck was broken and this was most likely the sole cause of death. The wound on her chest was done posthumously with a sharp object. The cut is deep and she would have bled out if she had been alive." I finished my summary and sat down on a chair across the old worm desk. Charlie sat back and pursed his lips.

"We got her fingerprints but she's never been arrest. At least not in Chicago. We're running them through state records. They should be in, in a few hours."

"Hours?" I asked incredulously.

"Understaffed and underpaid makes state cops not so eager to help on a Saturday morning."

"How did you get in contact with the supposed parents?"

"There was a missing persons report filed a few weeks ago that matches the victims physical description."

"Weeks? He kept her for weeks?"

"Looks like it so far. Sure it's a he?" I shrugged.

"Female killers are very rare. Let's just assume it's a 'he' for now." Charlie made no argument.

"When are we meeting them?" Charlie looked at his clock.

"An hour. We're taking them tos the morgue. They have to make a positive ID." I frowned. No parent should ever have to see their child like that.

----------------

We met with Mr. and Mrs. Bundy by the elevators. They were young. The father had the same shade of hair color as the victim, while the mother had a red tone.

They didn't look as sad as I would have thought. After this long, I assume they had given up hope.

We greeted each other and I almost laughed as the father said his name was Ted.

The ride down was quiet and awkward. But that was understandable. We were taking them to their dead daughter, possibly. It should be awkward.

Avery was expecting us, of course. He smiled lightly towards Mr. and Mrs. Bundy. Charlie and I stayed back when the freezer door was opened and the metal bar was pulled out. When the white sheet was pulled back to reveal the face, Mrs. Bundy looked away fast, her breath coming in gasps. Mr. Bundy nodded and the sheet was pulled back over and the bar forced back in.

The parents walked out to give us a few minutes.

"I have the toxicology report," Avery tells us and we wait patiently.

"Her alcohol level is normal. As far as I can tell, she hasn't been drinking in a while. But, she did have a significant amount of Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, also known as GHB, in her blood. It's commonly known as a date rape drug-"

"Was she raped?" Charlie blurted out.

"I don't know yet since I haven't done the autopsy… GHB has a similar affect as that of alcohol. It's odorless and colorless. It tastes salty, but that's about it. It's usually dumped into a drink where it mixes and becomes invisible. It very easy to overdose and if so, you could die."

"I'm sensing a but…" I fished. Avery nodded.

"But… there was something odd with the amount. She had been given a controlled dosage."

"Why is that odd?"

"Because GHB is very hard to dose. If you're only given a very small amount, the effect is almost good. You're relaxed, even happy. But given a too large one and you're having breathing problems, followed by unconsciousness and then death. The line between small and large dose is very thin. You'll have to know what you're doing-"

"Could it be a doctor?"

"Yes. That's one option, also a nurse could get the dosage right but… now a days, you can get almost any information online. I wouldn't make it official that it's someone within the medical industry."

"They're really pages telling people how much of a drug to give someone?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"Sadly, yes."

"Is that all."

"Well there was one more thing. Her blood also showed a high amount of cannabis."

"She was smoking pot?" I asked incredulously.

"Either that or the person who did this to her did, a lot."

We left right after that, taking in this new information. It was so strange. I shook my head as I closed in on the parents.

"Mrs. Bundy," I said softly. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes. If that's okay?" She took a deep breath and then nodded. Charlie stayed behind with her husband.

"When did you first realize your daughter was missing?" I asked as we sat down on old and worn chairs down the hall.

"She's not technically my daughter. Ted and I married shortly after Lindsay's mother died. She was hit by a drunk driver." I nodded and waiter for her to continue. "It was around two months ago." I raised my eyebrows.

"Why didn't you file a missing person report sooner?"

Mrs. Bundy shook her head and I could see tears gathering in her eyes.

"I don't want to sound cruel but Lindsay was a little troubled."

"Troubled?"

"Yes. She recently found out that I wasn't her real mother."

"You never told her?"

"No. We thought it best not to at the time. We wanted to wait for a better moment." She wiped her cheeks free. "She's been hanging out with some bad people. She's been staying out late, sometimes not coming home for the night or the day after. I know she's been drinking a lot. She's started smoking and I even found cocaine in her room once."

"Did you confront her about any of this?" She nodded.

"Yes. We got into a huge fight. I grounded her, thinking it might help but then she got really pissed, screaming that I wasn't her real mother and that I couldn't tell her what to do." She was sobbing now. "I loved that girl like she was my own. I never wanted to tell her because I thought that I could pretend she was all mine." Her words became more blurred and she put her face in her hands.

"It's better if we get this out of the way now," I said softly, reminding her she didn't need to talk about this after they left.

Mrs. Bundy nodded and pulled it together.

"She took it worse than we expected."

"Can I ask how she found out?"

"She found some old pictures. She doesn't have any siblings and when she saw her father with her real mother, when she was pregnant with Lindsay, she put two and two together." I nodded.

"Had she disappear before? More than one day?" She hesitated.

"Yes. One time she was gone for a week and a half. That was why we waited to file a police report. But we never- we never thought. Not after the call."

"Call?" That got my attention.

"Yes. After she had been gone for about six weeks, we got a call from her. She was at a payphone in Rockford. We have caller ID, Ted recognized the zip code," she explained as she saw my confused expression.

"We thought she'd just run away. She's only eighteen."

"I know this is hard but anything you can tell us will help." She nodded again.

"Why would she be in Rockford?"

"I don't know." She shook her head.

"How did she sound?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did she sound scared or angry? What did she say?" Mrs. Bundy shrugged.

"She just said she was leaving, for good this time. We thought she was just being dramatic."

"Did she have a boyfriend?"

"Uhm…" Hesitation. I quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know anyone she called her boyfriend but…"

"But?"

"I don't want my husband to find out about this." She looked at me pointedly. I nodded.

"Last year, I was cleaning her room and I found birth control pills and condoms. I asked her about it. I know a child doesn't want to talk about that with her parents. She first got mad, saying I shouldn't snoop in her room. I kept asking her if she was having sex and with whom. She wouldn't say. But I never found any pictures or anything indicating she had a boyfriend. I don't want to think about it but…" I filled in the blanks myself.

"You think your daughter might have been a prostitute?" Mrs. Bundy sniffed.

"I don't know what to think. What if she was just too shy to tell us about him?" She said the last like she didn't believe it herself.

"Was she usually shy?"

"No. In high school, she was a cheerleader, captain. I always thought we could talk about anything. Maybe that's just wishful thinking."

"Teenagers like their privacy," I noted to which she nodded.

"Do you know any of her friends? Maybe someone from school she still hung out with. She graduated this June right?"

"Yes. Not that many. I know one girl she always hangs out with; Tara. Such a sweet girl."

"Anyone else?"

"No. Not anyone from school. And I don't know the other people she hangs around with now days. She's been sheltering herself from us since she found out."

"When exactly was that?"

"Um… about a year ago. March, I believe." I nodded.

"Thank you so much," I said, standing up.

"That's all you need?" I nodded.

"For now. We may be in touch later on."

As she turned to leave, she stopped and looked back at me.

"Please find who did this to my baby."

"I'll do my best." She nodded and walked down the hall.

--------------

**  
BPOV **

I looked, confused, around the room.

"Edward?" No answer.

I checked the time. 11:03. I stared at the clock for a long moment. Like the numbers would change to the real time. I usually never slept later than 10. But it was Saturday, he didn't have work. So where was he? Why didn't he wake me?

I grabbed my phone, texting quickly.

_Where'd you go?_

I sat up and stretched my arms before hearing my text signal.

_Sorry. Got a call, have to work. _

_See you tonight?_

I groaned. It was times like this when I hated my father. He had the worst timing in the whole history. It's like he knew.

I texted back.

_But it's Saturday! Couldn't it wait? _

I sighed, disappointed and waiter for the phone to sing again.

_I'll make it up to you later… _

I grinned. Yeah he would.

_That's better. Your place tonight?_

Thirty seconds later;

_Sure. Do you have work tom? _

_No. _

_Good. _

That was cryptic, but promising. I flipped the covers away from me and got up. A bath would feel good right about now.

As I walked to the bathroom, I pulled my hair up in a tight high bun. I stripped of my shirt and twisted the knobs to the water. My back was aching and when I turned around, I saw a faint line across my lower back. Totally worth it. I chuckled and climbed into the bathtub.

The water was soothing. I don't remember the last time I took a bath. The bubbles formed forts around me and I blew at them, getting them all over the walls. The sweet sound of Evanescence - Lithium floated through the small bathroom.

I grabbed my book – A Christmas Carol and started reading. I must be the only living person that has not read this ultra thin novel. It's a crime against literature.

The water started to cool somewhere around the appearance of the first ghost. I threw the book onto the counter, held my breath and dipped under the surface.

After shampooing, conditioning and rinsing my hair, I wrapped it in a towel, dried the rest of myself and got dressed before getting downstairs, ready to leave. I was having lunch with Charlie. I was surprised when he called and set the time. My father wasn't one for planning. I didn't have high expectations as I walked the chilling walk to the small diner just five minutes from the house.

Charlie wasn't there when I showed up. That didn't surprise me. Charlie wasn't known for being punctual.

I ordered breakfast as I waited. My pancakes with powdered sugar on them and orange juice arrived not five minutes later. I checked my phone. He was ten minutes late. I sighed and called him.

"_Swan,"_ he answered.

"Dad-"

"_Hello sweetheart."_ I rolled my eyes.

"You forgot didn't you?"

"_Forgot what?" _

"We were supposed to have lunch today… does that ring a bell?" He groaned.

"_I'm sorry honey." _

"So you're not coming?"

"_I'm sorry but- What Masen?"_ I couldn't hear what Edward said. _"I can't just- the case- no it-"_ I heard him sighed and waited.

"_I'll be there in a few minutes."_ I hung up and texted Edward.

_What was that about? _

_He thinks the case won't get solved if he goes to lunch. _

I rolled my eyes. That was so like Charlie.

I started eating slowly and as I hit my last pancake, Charlie walked into the diner. I smiled at him and got up to give him a hug.

"Hi dad."

"Hi Bells."

We sat down and I drank some juice.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I heard you've been working too hard again."

Charlie grumbled, looking down at the table.

"I'm doing what it takes to get these assholes."

"It won't help if you run yourself out. You'll crash; get hospitalized for exhaustion and then what? They'll probably make you take a vacation."

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. Don't worry so much." I sighed.

"Dad. It won't help; no matter how many you catch or how little time it takes. It won't change things."

"Stop it Bella."

"I've already come to term that she won't come back. You should too."

"I know she's gone."

"Of course you know it. But do you really _know_ it?"

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me." I rolled my eyes.

"Anyone can see you're overcompensating for not being there before-"

"Let's not talk about that anymore. That's not why I wanted to see you."

"So you do remember what you wanted to talk about?" I asked sarcastically.

"I wanted to talk about your future." I rolled my eyes and forced myself not to groan.

"What?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"I just want to know what your plans are." He was speaking way too innocently.

"I'm going to school, I have a job and I pay my own bills. Most parents would be content with that."

"I'm talking about your education. Do you really plan on pursuing psychology? As a profession?"

"Maybe I am. What's wrong with that?"

"I just think you should pick something more… safe."

"I don't like safe, nor do I want it. I like psychology. There are really sick people out there that need help. Not just to be thrown into jail for something they probably had not real control over."

"What people do is their own fault. They have control over it. They don't need help. What they need is a penalty."

"Not always. There are people sick enough to kill without realizing it. I've even-" I looked away. It always frustrated me when we talked about this. According to Charlie, one's brain couldn't control you. In his mind, psychology was a way out for killers. Making the public think they're just sick and couldn't help themselves.

"What?"

"I've thought about maybe becoming a profiler." Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I don't want you to become like me." I laughed a hard laugh.

"Trust me dad. That's not going to happen."

"That's what everyone thinks. But once you've found a job your comfortable with… that will become your life."

"Is this concern or something else?"

"I just thought that when you finished school the first time, got your PhD, you'd move on. That it was just a phase. I don't understand. That's all. You know I don't believe in psychology. And quite frankly, profiling is a bunch of people guessing their way towards an explanation." It was my time to shake my head.

"By profiling a murder suspect," I started, trying to make him understand. "You don't just guess. You gather all facts and look them over but not as yourself but as the killer. Why would he or she do that? It's not a guessing game." I settled down. I didn't need to make a scene.

"We don't have to agree," I said. "I just need you to know that if I was someone who thought that far into her future; this is what I would want to do. It'd make me happy. Don't you want that?"

"You know I want nothing less."

"Then support me and let me make my own mistakes. I'm 22 years old dad. You can't baby me forever." He studied me for a moment.

"When did you get so wise?" I smirked lightly.

"I've always been like this."

"That's true."

"Is that all you wanted; to ambush me, or was it something else?"

"There's no fooling you is there?"

"Of course not," I said, looking outraged. He smiled.

"I'm sorry for how this sounds but need you to pick up all your old stuff at the house." I froze.

"Okay," I started slowly. "Why?"

"I need a bigger office."

"It's all about work isn't it?"

"As of right now. Yeah."

"What's it now?" I asked with a sigh, trying to sound nonchalant. Truth is; I want to know.

"You don't want to know."

"No actually I think I do."

"I'm not obliged to speak about an open-"

"Dad, seriously. Who am I going to tell? Think I'd sell you out to the media?"

"Of course now. But you don't need to know this."

"Can't protect me forever."

"I can try."

"Tell me. Maybe I can do some guessing."

"Funny. Okay then. Maybe you could give me some insight to the kind of person who kills an eighteen year old girl." I sighed. "You still want to know?"

"Dad-"

"There's a reason I don't tell you what I work on. Please try to respect that." There was nothing more to say right now. We parted ways. I paid my bill and went home. I needed some clothes before getting to Edward's. While it was tempting to use Edward's clothes the rest of the weekend, I still needed my computer. All he had was a Mac and I can't use that. I barely know how to turn on the internet.

**  
EPOV **

I sat at my desk with a copy of the toxicology report, looking it over and over again. There was something bugging me about the GHB. Of course anyone could get the information of the internet, but…

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. We weren't getting anywhere. I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting my feet rest on the desktop. My cell started ringing and I looked over.

"Mhm?" I answered tiredly.

"_Are you getting here, you know… ever?"_ I looked at the time. It was just past six.

"Yeah. Sorry. Time went a little quickly today."

"_We'll you should hurry. I've ordered pizza and I can't guarantee there'll be anything left if you don't hurry up."_ I smirked.

"Would you really be that cruel?"

"_I'm starving. I've been having a Lost marathon and you have no food at all."_

"Such a good show."

"_Eh."_ I sat up straight.

"Eh? What the fuck does _eh_ mean?" I heard her chuckle. "It's the best show ever. Don't mock its awesomeness."

"_Or what?"_ She challenged. I could practically see her; biting her lip.

"Or I suppose I'll have to punish you."

"_Hmm… well that does sound tempting."_ I almost moaned as I heard how her voice changed.

"Oh it does, does it?" I smirked again.

"Who are you talking to?" I gasped and jumped out of my chair.

Charlie was standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"Uhm…" I stalled, trying to come up with a name, and fast. I could hear Bella trying not to laugh on the other line.

"Get yourself a girlfriend, Masen?" Charlie teased.

"Mind your own business," I snapped but almost sighed in relief. Since I didn't shoot me, he obviously didn't realize who I was talking to. I put the phone back to my ear.

"I'll call you right back."

"_You should hurry home. Or I might just start without you…"_ she hung up and I almost groaned out loud. I looked over at Charlie.

"Gotta go." I gathered my things.

"That's it? You're not going to tell me who you were almost phone-fucking in your office." I almost chocked on my own saliva and air.

_Oh believe me Charlie; you do not want to know. _

* * *

**AN: I know it's an abrupt ending but truth be told, I just didn't have any more words. The chapter was ending now either way and this was the better choice.  
****  
I couldn't find the exact information I wanted about GHB. Like how long it takes for the drug to disappear from the system. But I assumed it took around 24 hours or so. Feel free to correct me! **

**Again, I'm feeling proud. Such a fast update. The words just flow so easily. Probably because I'm on all about crimes right now. **

**Seriously, can't stop reading... at all. I'm done with my book and I immediately grabbed another. I'm on _Neuropath_ by Scott Bakker. So far it seems promising.  
Don't get used to updates this fast... it may just be a fluke, but I hope not. It's so fun to write... I'm literally five seconds away frmo finishing the next chapter... if you're good and review, I'll get to the update faster... **


	4. Theory

**AN: Once more I'm feeling really proud of myself. I finished this before I had time to post chapter 2 (or technically 3). I was going to update every Wednesday but it's probably going to be a little earlier than that. I feel like I may be getting a little writer blockish. I'm dreading it will take full affect and I'm struggligt though the next, next chapter. **

* * *

_Theory_

My heart was pounding. My body was covered in sweat. My breath was coming in short pants and every muscle inside me ached. The floor was cold but felt nice against my stomach and half my face. The air seemed to settle again and once the immediate warmth wore off, Goosebumps replaced the sweat and I shivered.

"From now on," Edward said, his breathing returned to normal. "Always greet me like that." He was still half on top of me but the added weight felt good.

"That would be really awkward amongst people."

"I'm not sure I would care." He rolled over and grinned. I felt my face start to flush.

"Stop it," I said teasingly, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "You're making me blush." Edward looked at me incredulously.

"My grinning makes you blush? But not when you practically attack me before I even had time to close the-"

"You weren't complaining," I pointed out.

"Only a moron would complain about that."

We took a few extra minutes before getting off the floor and made our way towards the bathroom. My knees still felt wobbly and I leaned against the counter as Edward turned on the water. He twisted his frame, as he waited for the water to heat. He looked me up and down and I rolled my eyes.

I pushed myself away and walked right up to him, pressing myself against him.

"Hi," I said and wowed my arms around his waist.

"Hey yourself." He leaned down and I reached up. Before the kiss got heated, steam flowed out from behind the shower curtain. If we didn't want to lose it, we'd have to get in now.

I let the water drip over my face and onto my hair. It felt so good. I brought both my hands thru my hair before turning around Edward was frowning.

"What?" He touched my sore back and I remembered the mark. I removed his hands, kissing the tips of his fingers.

"Don't worry about it." He was about to say something but I shut up his thoughts by pressing him against the cold tiled wall and kissing him.

"You know I like it when you get rough with me," I whispered into his mouth and he chuckled.

I pulled away and got under the warm spray again.

When we were done showering, Edward brought me and old grey zip-less hoodie for me to wear. I went to his bedroom to pull on the hoodie, a fresh pair of underwear and steal some sweatpants. It was too cold to walk with my legs bare.

I went out and fell back on the couch, planting my feet on the coffee table. I turned on the TV and flipped thru the channels quickly

I could see him standing in the small archway and studying me. I finally looked at him and raised my brows.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Uh-oh." I smiled but he seemed unmoved. My smile faded.

"What's up?"

"Did you mean what you said to Charlie at lunch today?"

"I don't know. I said a lot of-"

"About becoming a profiler…" he cut me off, leaning against the wall, simply looking at me. I looked away and clucked my tongue before turning his way again.

"Yes." He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"What's so wrong with that?" I defended. "Please don't tell me you think psychology is just a guessing game, too?" He ignored me.

"Why?" I looked at him questionably.

"Why not?"

"Why don't you become a licensed therapist instead?"

"Do I act like I want to know about peoples fucking lives? Sometimes, a dream about flying monkeys is just a dream about flying monkeys."

"But why would you even consider-"

"You know why," I cut him off, my voice dripping with acid. He didn't flinch.

"No actually, I don't."

"It's so that mistakes like that don't have to happen. Some people need help."

"Some people just need a reality check."

"You sound like my dad," I grumbled and turned off the TV. The room fell silent.

"So that means you won't listen to me either?" I studied him for a moment before getting up.

"Maybe I should leave." He sighed and grabbed my arm as I walked past him.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Why are you so against this? And I swear to fucking God if you say it's because you want to "protect" me from all the bad stuff in the world, I swear I'll fucking beat the shit out of you. And don't think I can't do it." Edward stared at me. I never yelled at him. At least not like this. Sure we fought but this was an entirely new level.

"Is it so wrong to not want you to see what I see every fucking day?"

"No."

"You don't want to know what I've seen."

"Don't tell me what I want and don't want."

"From every case, you'll get nightmares. Insomnia will follow you like the plague. Every image will haunt you forever. Are you willing to go through something like that?"

"It's selfish to give it up because of that." He laughed hard and turned away from me, running his hands thru his hair in frustration.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"It's a gift," I replied dryly. "You think I can't do it?"

"I don't _want_ you to do it."

"Well you can't have that. I wasn't even sure before. I was taking behavioral psychology because it sounded fascinating. The only reason I even considered it – with the evidence of Charlie – is because-" I cut myself off, not returning his eye contact.

"Because?"

"Because of what happened."

"Have you talked to anyone-"

"I don't like therapists."

"And you want to become a profiler."

"Either has nothing o do with the other."

I leaned against the opposite wall and thought it over for a second before speaking.

"It's not just concern is it? You know how most people get. Married to their work. No time for a social life…" I hinted and he looked away.

"You're good," he muttered to himself but I heard him.

"I do have a PhD in psychology. Should count for something."

There wasn't much else to say on the matter after that. Edward ordered some pizza and we watched Independence Day on DVD. Apparently, it was a crime to not have seen that movie. Like the world would perish.

---------------

I awoke with a jolt. I had changed into an old black t-shirt which went to my mid-thigh. I could feel sweat on my forehead and on my chest, making my shirt cling to me. My arms shook and my breath came in pants. I slowly eased my way out from under Edward's arm and out the bedroom door. I closed it behind me and sat down on the couch, my head falling into my hands.

It was the same dream, only a few details were different. I could feel my throat closing up, thinking about the past and my eyes waters. Tears slowly ran down my cheeks. I bit my lip to keep quiet.

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And every time I started to cry, like a fucking child. I'm 22 years old, this shouldn't happen anymore. In moments like these, I felt as if I was 17 again and getting out of my boyfriend-of-the-weeks car and getting up to my house, only to notice it's full of police cars. I got so scared, _knowing_ it was about what I had been doing during the night. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I stopped my thoughts there. I didn't want to think about it. It was over and done with. I had moved on.

Looking around the room, anything to keep my mind occupied, I noticed a stack of papers on the desk right behind the couch. Edward was usually neat. Something I was also and I just had to.

It was the case files. He'd be mad, pissed even, but I couldn't help it. I grabbed the semi large stack and got back to the couch, settling them all on the small table in front of me. I opened one faded yellow file and read some notes.

I started at the back. Those notes were from the first crime scene, explaining where and how the victim was found. How she looked and the coroner's comments. One thing caught my eyes. The UNSUB had written _whore_ across the victims chest. The cut deep and showed aggression. I'd have to file that away for later. I also shuddered at the thought of breaking my neck, even if it was painless.

I flipped a page and read some more. There was a copy of a toxicology report. The drug didn't surprise me. UNSUBS likes to have total control over their victim. Sometimes it doesn't matter how strong he or she is, they want to feel powerful since something in their life usually makes them feel worthless. Control freaks.

There were five pages on an interview with a Mrs. Bundy, stepmother of the victim. I read everything thoroughly, two times. The part about the victim being a prostitute made me think of the word written across her chest. Then something clicked. I could be wrong and it could be nothing. Or it could mean something exponentially.

"It was personal," I whispered to myself.

"What?" A groggy but away voice asked.

I jumped off the couch and whirled around. Edward was standing in the doorway, leaning against the wood. My mouth opened and closed rapidly. I was trying to come up with a good explanation for me snooping through his stuff but I came up empty. That's when he saw the papers on the table. His eyes moved quickly to the desk and widened as they took in the empty space.

"What are you doing?" He all but growled.

"Uhm… I was just. I'm sorry-"

"Those are classified case reports. You have no right to look through them."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep and-"

"And decided to snoop around a little?" I stayed silent. He looked at me for a moment, probably wondering why I was caving this easily. I usually put up quite a fight. But not tonight. I didn't have it in me to fight, not after the dream.

Edward's fingertips came up and shifted my head, finally seeing my eyes were bloodshot. He sighed sadly. He knew about the dreams. It's not like I could keep them from him.

"Did you have another nightmare?" He murmured softly, all traces of anger gone, for now. I nodded.

"Yeah." His arm came around me and his hand found place in my hair. He brought me closer and kissed my hair. I hated to sound corny and mushy but I always felt better when he was with me. Alice or Angela usually woke up, gave me some coco and sat, trying to get me to talk about it. I appreciated their efforts but that wasn't what I wanted.

"I'm sorry," I said again. He backed away and looked at me.

"It's okay. Just don't tell anyone what you read." I nodded. I made to move away and go back to bed when he caught my arm.

"What did you say?"

"About what?"

"Right before you saw me. You said something."

"Oh. It's nothing. Just some guessing," I replied with sarcasm. Edward didn't let me go.

"Will you please tell me?" I studied him for a moment.

"I said that it was personal." Now he stared at me for a minute.

"What makes you say that?" The way he spoke, it was as if he really wanted my opinion, not asking to mock me.

"The carving on her chest," I said truthfully.

"I still don't get it." I moved away from him, getting the file and opening it to the last page of the interview.

"Here," I pointed at the section about prostitution.

"Her stepmother thought she was into prostitution?" Edward asked to which I nodded.

"I at first had some suspicions. Maybe it was done by a jealous boyfriend or maybe an angry best friend for stealing her boyfriend but the mother mention the girl didn't have one."

"Teenagers have a tendency to hide things from their parents." I nodded, agreeing.

"Yes. But if Lindsay did have a boyfriend, there would be something of him in her room. Girls don't get involved with someone and don't keep something from that person. We're way too paranoid for that."

"So you think she was a prostitute." I bit my lip and then nodded.

"But someone should probably go through Lindsay's room thoroughly, look for anything that might suggest she had a boyfriend. But I'm quite certain it's the other option." Edward sighed, ran a hand though his hair and sat down on the couch.

"She was only eighteen." I sat down next to him and continued.

"So that leads to my theory. The word; whore. You don't just carve that into someone's chest after killing a person for no reason. I think he or she got mad."

"You've lost me." I rolled my eyes.

"I think her broken neck was an accident-"

"You mean her death was an accident-"

"No. Will you listen for one second?" I snapped at him and he grew quiet. I waited one moment to see if he would listen. He did.

"As I was saying. I don't think her death was an accident. She would have been murdered either way. But I think the way of it was an accident. The killer probably had something else planned for her. That's why he wrote _whore_ on her chest, to compensate for what he couldn't do anymore. He wanted her to suffer and when he couldn't get that, he got mad and did the first thing he could think of. He needed to get the message across. He got mad." Edward sat quietly, pondering what I just said.

"I think he is mentally unstable." He snorted.

"That's a given." I shook my head.

"No. I mean, have a real psychological problem. Probably has a prescription for it too."

"Is that an excuse?"

"Of course not. But it's a good start." Edward shook his head and looked at me with incredulous eyes.

"How did you just do that?" I smirked.

"I'm good at it aren't I?" He grinned too and looked at the table covered in papers and pictures. His face grew pensive and solemn.

"What would drive an eighteen year old to prostitution?"

"Maybe she needed money?" I started with the worst alternative. I knew it was wrong but it needed to be said. Edward shook his head.

"Her parents were quite well off. They would have given her what she wanted."

"Reaction. To finding out that her mother is not her real mother."

"I just don't see it. How could someone react that badly?" I snorted.

"When someone just finds out that their life has all been a lie, it takes its toll on that person, mentally. A guy would most likely have acted out. Gotten into fight, been overly defensive about anything said about him or his family. A girl usually shelters herself form her family. Her friends and supposed allies are her family now and they take care of her."

"Are those the only options?" I shook my head.

"Some take it like a hard blow when first learning. But then, gradually, comes back to reality and lives a normal life. Every person is different. But…"

"But?"

"There is one more option. I'm not sure yet whether I think it's viable but she could be doing it for control."

"How-"

"Maybe she wanted to be worshiped, to have those small moments where men wanted her. We always second guess ourselves and we want to be wanted. Every time a guy pays interest in us, we feel good about it, even if we sometimes don't show it."

"I never thought about it that way."

"Few people do."

"What do you think? About the UNSUB ? Age, weight, social class, gender?" I opened my mouth but closed it again.

"I honestly have no idea. Age is one of the hardest things to pinpoint. From what I see right now, it could be a male, a female. Even with the decrease in female killers. I think it's too early to tell anything for certain."

"Not to sound completely egotistic right now but do you mind if I take the credit for what you just said? I have to tell Charlie and I don't want to have to lie too much." I chuckled.

"It's fine." Reaching out a hand, Edward brought one finger to my cheek, ran it over the skin a few times before dropping lower and tracing my lips.

"Have I told you you're amazing?" He whispered. I pretended to think about it.

"Not today." Smirking, he leaned forwards and pulled my bottom lip in between his.

"You're amazing," he whispered against my lips. I smirked and kissed him harder. "Absolutely perfect."

"I'm not perfect."

"Close enough."

If we wanted to get any kind of sleep before – I'm sure, Charlie would be calling Edward in – we needed to do it now. I pulled away and he groaned, trying to drag me back. It was hard to resist him.

----------------

For once, I woke up not alone. Edward was still asleep, lying in his stomach with both his arms shoved underneath his pillow. I was lying on the other side of the bed and I shivered from the cold. Slowly I crawled towards him and faced my back with his chest. I grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm around my waist. He responded by bringing me closer to him and nuzzling his face into the back of my neck.

Edward brushed his lips over my neck.

"Did I wake you?" I whispered, thinking maybe he was still asleep.

"Yes," he said in a teasing tone. "But I don't mind." I gently dragged my nails over his arm which was still around my waist, right below my breasts, almost touching.

_Come on, just a little higher. I know you want to. _

As if he knew my thoughts, his thump traced the underside of my breast and I chuckled. I felt him smile against my shoulder.

"What time is it?" I reached for the alarm clock, turning it slightly and sighing.

"11:43." I had to get home before Alice or Angela. I knew I couldn't lie and say I was out buying breakfast this early. They'd never believe me. Edward pulled me closer, almost crushing my ribs. I turned in his embrace, facing him. His eyes weren't closed anymore.

"You have to go." It wasn't a question. I nodded and he groaned softly.

"I don't want you to go." I traced his bottom lip with my fingertip.

"I don't want to go."

"So stay."

"They'll ask questions."

"So lie."

"They won't believe I got up this early."

"So ignore them. Let them think what they want."

"That I could be dead I a ditch somewhere?" He winced and I wanted to take it back.

Edward shook his head.

"Even though she didn't look at all like you, I couldn't stop picturing you in her place. That was all that went around in the back of my mind." I started to squirm. Not physically, but mentally, he knew this. I hated being emotional and "opening my heart".

"It doesn't matter if you don't say it. I don't know what I would do without you." I couldn't help but tease him.

"Getting a little clingy?" He smiled and then it faded away.

"I don't know what I would have done, had that been you-"

"It wasn't me," I stopped him. "And it's not gonna be me." I stood and got some clothes to change. Edward watched me silently from the bed. Once I was in a pair of old and worn jeans, a deep maroon tank and had my hair pinned up in a bun, I finally returned Edward's gaze.

"Can I see you tonight?" I grew depressed.

"I have school tomorrow and I doubt Alice and Angela would stay away from my room the entire night. They'll probably think I'm dying if I never leave the room." I got back up on my knees and sat in front of him.

"Tomorrow?" He was so adorable.

While I knew what some people would think about us, that Edward was just using me, they couldn't be more wrong. I was more likely to use him. Thanks to my absent father and unreliable mother, I didn't grow up normally. There were barely a handful of people that I trusted because trust had to be earned. Also, I have never been in a long term relationship. I have been seeing Edward for four months now and this is the longest I've ever been with any guy. It's weird but I enjoy Edward way too much to even think about not being with him right now.

But it was tough. I wasn't sure how we would define ourselves. We weren't just fucking. That much was established. We weren't friends with benefits either because, technically, we weren't friends. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend because no one knew we were together. I was more than happy not to have that talk. Being such an emotional basket case, I really couldn't have it be official. At least not yet.

"Of course," I answered softly and leaned forward. Edward grabbed my head and tumbled back down I the bed. I laughed against his lips as he still didn't release me. I was halfway on top of him but I knew we had to stop. I didn't have any self-control what so ever.

----------------

I hate fucking everything!

Monday turned out to be quite the bitchy day. I overslept and I couldn't blame it on Edward this time. As I ran to school I just had to trip in the stairs and my shin went right into the cement. I screamed but, luckily or unluckily, no one was around to see my humiliation.

I limped my way to class, getting a foul look from my professor as I stumbled in ten minutes late. I almost lashed out, saying I fell but instead I grumbled an apology and turned to sit down, realizing my usual place was taken and the only seat left was the one farthest into the room. I groaned internally and pressed myself up against the wall to pass the other people, who, by the way, had no desire at all to pull in their chairs.

Then there was a quiz and even though I knew all the material, it was still annoying to waste the time. My stomach growled halfway through the quiz and a few snickered. I wanted to beat the shit out of them.

"Can anyone tell me a few characteristics of a sociopath?" I reached up my hand, like five others.

"Yes, Miss Swan?"

"Lack of remorse, lack of empathy, good at manipulating…" I crossed off some examples. Mr. Banner, my professor, nodded.

"Exactly. They can also be very charming, change their appearances ever so often. It's not always that sociopaths are killers but we can assume than many killers are sociopaths. The start is often in childhood and the first sign is if a child starts torturing and killing animals, maybe a household pet..." And so it went on for another two hours.

It's not that I don't like the class, because I do but the day was already going to be bad, why even try to make it good. I felt like I was chronically depressed. Having my good days and bad days.

I held up in my room as I got home, like the little hermit that I am. Around three, Alice stormed in, demanding I tell her what was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you just sitting here? You act like your cat just got run over." I frowned. Then she got that look.

"Is this about a guy?" I composed my face.

"No Alice."

"It is, isn't it?!" She squealed and I cringed back. She was really loud for such a small person.

"Alice, I'm going deaf. Shut up."

"Come on! You can't just spring this on me and not tell me about him."

"Spring what? I haven't' told you anything. I'm not dating anyone."

"Oh yes you are. You have that glow." I snickered.

"That's just a 'recently fucked' glow. Fucking and dating are not the same thing." Alice wrinkled her nose.

"Do you have to be so crude?"

"Yes."

"Let's go for a walk. I want pressure you into telling me." I sighed and grabbed a sweatshirt. She wouldn't budge on this.

We drove up to Ryerson Woods Hike. I always thought this funny; driving to take a walk.

It was warmer today. The air was still crisp but I didn't have to have my scarf and mitts. Alice parked her car and we started to walk uphill.

I loved nature. Mostly in the summer, when I could walk without having to bring layers upon layers of clothing but nature really is beautiful. Maybe it wasn't such a horrible Monday after all.

We followed the path in silence, hearing nothing but our breaths. Until Alice decided to talk.

"So tell me about him." I groaned.

"There's no he, Alice. I'm not seeing-"

"But you said you were sleeping with someone." I rolled my eyes.

"I was joking. Yeezh, sense the tone."

"Didn't sound like you were joking."

"I'm a good liar." Alice sighed.

"You should find someone. Maybe then you could be happy." I raised both my eyebrows and snorted. "Not that you're not happy now but being with someone – not just physically – really is the best." Yeah, I know. But the physical aspect doesn't hurt.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"Like what?" I shrugged and we both laughed.

"I'm thinking of becoming a profiler," I announced after a minute. Alice stayed silent for another.

"Like work for the FBI?" I nodded. "You sure you should to do that?" Hesitation.

"I know I _want_ to. I studied psychology because I find the human mind fascinating. I never wanted to be a psychologist or therapist. I don't really care about peoples' days. I'd probably give such bad advices they'd all kill themselves. Either a profiler or maybe work at a mental institution." Alice shuddered.

"Those are some great alternatives Bella." Sarcasm.

"Some people need professional help. Not just serial killers but those who are so sick they don't know what they are doing."

"Maybe you should have become a doctor."

"Technically, I am. But I'd probably faint if I ever saw that much blood."

"Just do what makes you- Wow!" Alice stopped short and I looked in the direction she was. Wow indeed. On the hillside, maybe a kilometer away was a house. But not any house, this was like mansion. It must be self designed. Half the house was over the hillside. I could see a pool and a Jacuzzi on the deck, surrounding the half over the edge.

Glass windows covered the entire wall of the deck. Even though it was only one story, it stood majestic.

"I'd kill to live there," Alice sighed wishfully.

"I'd faint if I ever lived there." We both laughed and started walking again.

I pulled out my phone and stopped walking as I saw how late it was.

"Maybe we should get back. It's already 3:30 and it's getting dark." Alice agreed.

Before we had time to move away I froze in my spot. We were standing on the top of what looked like canyon. Albeit, it was much smaller that I had ever seen but the other explanation I had was that it looked like bowl. Somehow, canyon seemed better.

At the very bottom was… something. I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward.

"Holy motherfucking shit!"

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**AN: Dum dum duuuum...... I know it's a cliffhanger but I'm done with the next chapter, I just need to read it thru one more time to correct some errors. Once again, the more you review the faster I'll update. I know, maybe it's pathetic to ask for reviews but I like knowing what you think. **


	5. Tommy Doyle

**AN: So** **this is a smaller one and I promise the next chapter will be up at the end of this**** week. I'm writing like a maniac on this story. There's just so much to get out and my hands cramp up ever so often. For one moment of insanity, I was going to slightly go on a small hiatus on this story to get closer to the ending on my other one - Scarred - but I'm having way too much fin writing Random numbers so it's Scarred that's going to take a small hit. **

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_  
Unknown  
_

I took a deep breath and held it in for a moment. The cold air hit my lunges like ice and I welcomed the feeling. I released the warm air and watched how it floated out of my mouth like a cloud of smoke. Then I started moving.

He wasn't far ahead. I knew these woods like the back of my fucking hand. But I also knew that he did not, even though he lived in the fucking middle of it. I smirked as I could almost see him going in the wrong directions. Ultimately coming back to me. Like a fucking lap dog being called to his master. I chuckled darkly.

My steps were quick but soundless. His were not. I could hear him a little over 50 meters ahead. Did he really think I couldn't hear him? I knew he was stupid from the beginning, but I never thought he'd be this big of a tool. But I suppose people like him don't care that they are loud as a fucking cement truck, as long as they run faster.

That was always a common misconception. Sometimes, speed had nothing to do with it. It's all about having the right skills. For example, you could catch a deer with you bare hands, not because you're quiet as a mouse but because you know better than to think you can sneak up behind it.

I turned left and got to a small woodened canyon. Many years ago, it had been a lake. Now it was a dried up bowl shaped hunting magnet. Animals are always so predictable. They think nothing can catch them in the open. Shoot, yes, but not catch. Not without some alerting.

I was not for guns. They took all the fun out of it. How could you learn anything by standing half a kilometer away and pulling the trigger?

I could see him now. I grinned widely. He looked so out of breath. Whilst I had barely put in an effort yet. I could see him squat down behind a tree, looking around. Of course, he could not see me. My dark clothes blended in well with the bark. I sat down on my knees, interested as to what he would do now.

I could almost see him tremble with fear. That made me want to laugh. Such a silly and fragile little person. But when you think about it, we're all a little fragile. I let myself give away one dark chuckle. The man turned his head, as if he had heard me. How peculiar. I was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He was getting paranoid. Good.

He craned his neck around the wood. Like I would be standing on the other side, just waiting for him to see me and then hack him with a machete. Don't get me wrong. The thought did cross my mind once or twice. The look on his face would be priceless. But I knew that if I waited, drew it out, it would be so much sweater. Besides, it's such a knock off from Jason.

I slowly got on my feet but stayed close to the ground. I crept slowly out from my hiding place and to another tree, closer to the bottom of the canyon. I made no sound. He was only 20 meters away. I closed my eyes, craning my ears. I could hear his heavy breathing. I knew it to be impossible, but I felt as if I could feel his erratic heartbeat. I heard him sniff. I knew it was probably from the cold but I imagined it to be from tears. Pathetic.

He moved now. This was dangerous. Not the movement but the security he felt because he hadn't heard or seen me in a long time. He stood up slowly and walked carefully, but I still heard all the cracking of branches.

He slowly started walking forward, downward. I smiled. He's walking right into the trap. Brilliant. I am such a fucking genius! But I had to lay low for a few more moments. He needed to get down even lower. He seemed to stop just a few meters away from the bottom, behind two trees.

Only two things could be going through his mind right now. Either he thinks he'll die if he gets out in the open, because then he'll have to see me. Or that he'll die if he stays put, with me coming up behind him. It's easier for me to sneak up on him. Like the fool that he is, he goes out in the open. Foolish for him, but perfect for me.

His head whipped around so fast he could get whiplash. Finally, he seemed to have had enough.

"Where are you?!" I grinned and once his head turned away from my location, I moved with quick and precise feet, getting closer. He must have been waiting for an answer.

"Where the fuck are you, you fucking asshole?" I raised my eyebrows. Getting a little close now are we? They always curse. It's so predictable. At the brink of death even a priest could curse.

I found his lashing amusing and couldn't help but have a little fun with him. I grabbed a rock from the ground and aimed for a tree, 10 meters to my right. Right behind him. I released and as the rock made impact with the bark, the poor bastard squealed like a little girl. I bit my hand to silence myself.

He moved closer to where I wanted him. Backing up to a tree, 20 meter below me, I saw how his hands trembled. I stayed hunched down and crept slowly towards him. It must be agony. Knowing you're about to die but can't do anything about it.

15 meters away…

10…

5…

I move even slower now, still hunched to the ground. I hear his breathing now. It reeks of fear. It makes me smile. I'm two trees away from him. I slowly rise to my full length, letting the tree to help me make as little noise as possible.

There is no way out now, I think. Nowhere to run. If you scream, which you will, no one will be able to hear you. Scream all you want. I held my breath and made my way towards the tree he was standing against. It's inevitable as I take one step closer and he hears the pitter pattern of my boots against the ground.

His own breathing stop as I knew he had heard me. But he doesn't move away. It must be a close animal, he figures. Silly boy.

I touch the bark and it's like the energy of fear is imbedded into the subject. It makes me tingle and feel all warm and gooey on the inside.

This was the most interesting moment for me. Right before he dies, what will he do? Will he turn around, confirm his suspicion that I'm standing here, will he simply give up and let me end him or will he make a run for it. I wouldn't mind a chase. I had barely done anything this evening. I felt a little bored. Should I scare him?

My playful side got the better of me and I couldn't help myself when I peered out from the side and quietly said;

"Boo." Right in his ear. I chuckled darkly as he squealed, once again, like a little girl. I moved too fast for him to see me. I was no longer behind him. He whipped his head around again, cursing like a madman.

"What the fuck do you want fucker?!"

_Your head on a stick, displayed for the entire world to see what a pathetic excuse for a human being you are. _

Now I wanted him to see me. While it was fun, this was going nowhere. As he tried to look everywhere at the same time, I moved from one tree to another. I was like a shadow to him and his eyes stopped dead to where I was. I moved again and he looked to his left.

Something I had no control over made him look at the opposite side of the canyon. As his eyes wouldn't leave that spot, I reached into my boot and got out my knife. I moved one tree closer.

I got out of hiding, standing right in the open. He didn't look my way. I gripped my knife tighter in my hand, feeling the rage build up inside me. I wanted him dead. He had to die. He was useless. Just a pawn. A target. I started running.

When I wasn't even 3 meter away, the fucker turned but by then, it was too late. My knife made impact with his barely-covered middle section, right where his spleen was. He doubled over with a groan, going down on all fours.

The blood trickled out of him like a faucet left running. It looked so divine in the moonlight. I had to touch it. Taking a few drops on my latex covered fingers; I brought my hand up to my nose, smelling it. Rust and salt was the main scent. To some it was vile and other weird. To me it was euphoric. It was a smell I could not understand nor explain. It just was.

The bastard had finally fallen onto his back. He was close and in a lot of pain. He looked up at me with somber eyes. Blood flowed out of his mouth and he coughed, clamping down on his cut.

"Didn't think I would do it, did you?" I asked, hunching down and removing my hood. His eyes turned wide with shock. I smiled darkly down at him, waiting for the light to leave his eyes.

It took a long time. Or maybe I was just impatient. I carefully placed my knife at his wound and began to sink it into him again. After five times, he stopped making a noise of pain. I watched his eyes as his pupils dilated.

It was over.

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**AN: So this is, obviously, a very fucked up person. Someone didn't get enough love at home. **

**Let me know what you think. Do you want more thoughts from the killer or is it too much? Personally I think this is very tame but I'm not the one reading and reviewing. But I can promise that this will not be the last murder. There will be many more and believe me, they're going to get even more gruesome. **


	6. Revelations

**AN: I'm sorry to those of you who hate it when characters POV change a lot during a chapter but it was essential to this particular chapter. **

**It's 11:19Sweden time (morning that is, we don't do am and pm) and I'm tired and looking over this chapter the last time and if there are many errors.. tell me which and I'll correct them, otherwise you'll you just have to deal with it... **

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_Revelations_

**BPOV **

I sat numb in the backseat of the giant black SUV. My father's work car. People walked around outside and for a moment, I was sure I was in the zoo. My ears prickled and I could only hear statics. I didn't know what to think, how to feel. I mean, how are you supposed to feel when you've just found a dead guy on a walk with your best friend?

I couldn't cry because, why should I cry? Just because a person is dead or because I found him? Neither could I be angry. Was I supposed to pity myself? Some might think I should since I'm now probably traumatized for life. I'm not. So I just sat there, in the backseat, talking to no one and thinking of nothing.

My head was pounding. I leaned my elbow against the window, taking my head and placing my hand over my eyes.

I had watched the lifeless body the entire time it took for the authorities' to get here. Alice never saw it. I pushed her away. She didn't need to see that. Then the entire place – in a blink of an eye – was swarming in living bodies, none familiar to me.

Before I had time to say anything to the cops, Charlie arrived. He ran up to me, hugged me close – leaving me feeling awkward. Then he dragged me to his car and shoved me in the backseat. I was overly grateful for the tinted windows.

I watched as Alice got interrogated. She looked so distraught. Alice always was a sensitive one. No one tried to talk to me during the first hour. I knew it was because of Charlie. He probably threatened them if they even came near me. I hated when people got overprotective. He was acting like I would fall apart any moment. I wasn't. I'm not the kind of girl who let these things get to her. I'm the kind that moves on with her life. I don't let thinks – no matter how large they may be – drag me down. It's silly to live in the past.

I hadn't seen Edward yet but I knew he was there. He had to be. I wanted to see him. He would be good to me. I'm not saying Charlie's horrible but he's going overboard with protecting me. It wasn't helping and truth be told, he was slowly starting to piss me off.

When the door opened, I jumped in surprise. Charlie looked at me; horrified over what he ahd done.

"I'm so sorry sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." He didn't believe me.

"It's all going to be okay." He didn't sound convinced.

"Don't you need to talk to me or something?" Charlie looked so sad.

"I'm sorry but, yes. I tried to drag it out but-"

"It's fine." I opened the door and shut it with too much force. Charlie came up to my side, holding my arm way too tight but I didn't complain.

He took me over to a picnic table and made me sit down. When he pulled out a notepad and pen, I felt tears in my eyes. Not because of the situation but because I didn't want Charlie here with me now.

I wanted Edward.

I felt like such a child, starting to cry because she couldn't watch that show or have that toy at that exact moment. I looked down and blinked away my tears before Charlie could see them. He'd probably think I was catatonic and have me hospitalized.

He always overreacted.

**EPOV **

I walked down the hillside, nearly falling over because if the steepness. They had pulled a sheet over the body for discretion. Many hikers saw the yellow tape around the clearing and decided to take a closer look.

I walked down just as Avery stood up, wiping off the liver thermometer. The horrible smell of humanly fluids and decomposition always knocked me over but, disgustingly enough, I had grown accustomed to it. I never admitted that out loud.

"What you go for me?" Avery turned to me with an exhausted expression.

"Victim's male, close to thirty. He died around 4 a.m. this morning. I can only find one entry wound." Avery hunched down again, as did I. He pulled off one part of the sheet and a bright red wound materialized.

"It's done with some form of knife."

"How can you be sure?" To me it just looked like bloody mess of flesh and dirt.

"Because it has to be long enough to impale his spleen." We stood up again. "There's enough blood indicating that he died on this scene. He was in a tremendous amount of pain and bled out in a matter of minutes."

"Any id on him?" Avery shook his head.

"He also had no defensive wounds. He must have been surprised."

"Not hard with all these trees." I was getting anxious. I wanted to see Bella.

"I'm going back. Shout if you need anything else." Avery shook his hand in a dismissing nature. I dragged my feet up and frowned at the dirt on my shoes and the hem of my pants. As I looked back up, I could see her.

Sitting at a picnic table with Charlie, Bella looked too still. It worried me that she might be in shock. I walked up to them, as nonchalant as I could. I stopped right behind her.

"Are you sure you didn't see _anything_?" Bella huffed in annoyance and I could almost see her as she rolled her eyes.

"I told you both Alice and I never saw anything or anyone. Dad, it won't help if you keep asking me the same questions." Charlie saw me then. Bella looked around and stiffened as she looked at me. I gave her one seconds glance before turning my attention to Charlie. Bella slowly turned around and looked down.

"Talk to you for a second?" He nodded and Bella sat still again. A few meters away, I stopped and turned towards Charlie.

"What did Avery say?" I took a deep breath and blew it out.

"It's male. There's no id. Only one wound to the abdomen. He bled out in a matter of minutes."

"That's all?" Charlie looked troubled.

"That's all. We'll know more after the autopsy and toxicology report." He rubbed his face and sighed heavily.

"I'm going to talk to Avery." Charlie looked at his daughter.

"Watch her for a minute? I don't want her to be alone." That's more than fine by me.

"Sure." While he walked away, I sat down next to Bella. She didn't look at me. She stared at the table, picking at it.

"How you feeling?" I asked softly, reaching out for her but pulling my hand back. I couldn't mess up now.

"I'm fine. Can people stop asking me that?" She pulled her legs up, sitting Indian style. Her hair fell in front of her face, sheltering her.

"Please don't shut me out." I knew it was wrong to plead like this but I so desperately wanted to know what she was thinking.

"Do you know who it is- was?"

"No."

"How did he die?" I blinked.

"Bella-"

"Just tell me now so I don't have to go behind your back and look through the report." I hesitated. If Charlie ever knew I was talking to his precious little girl about how sick and twisted some people are, he'd have my head. On the other hand, he would react like that if he knew we were fucking behind his back.

"He was stabbed in the abdomen. His spleen was impaled and he bled out. Any guesses?" She pulled her hair back and I saw a faint smile on her lips. She shrugged.

"A hit to the spleen hurts like hell and you die slowly. He must have been pissed. But which serial killers aren't?" I sighed. She looked at me with her large eyes.

"What's wrong? Besides the dead guy?"

"I really wanted to see you tonight but I doubt I'll be able to leave the office before ten. We now have two murders to sort." She frowned too. And opened her mouth to speak but a loud shout interrupted us.

"Masen!" My head whipped up and Charlie was staring intently at the gurney holding the victim.

"I'll be right back," I told Bella quickly – who was staring at her father with large eyes. I jogged over.

"What-"

"Look!" My eyes lowered and landed on another wound we had not seen before – right down the chest and stomach. The wound had small blood spots on it and it was deep. I opened my mouth in surprise as I saw it was a word.

_Fucker _

It's him.

**BPOV **

I stared after him as Edward ran towards my father. They stood close together, almost arguing over something on the body. I looked away. It was almost more painful to have Edward this close and not being able to touch him than not being with him at all. But at least his presence soothed me.

I started picking at the table again, not paying attention to what I was doing. I was secretly sneaking glances at Edward's back. A splinter loosened and made its way underneath my nail.

"Fuck!" I whisper-yelled. Small tears of crimson liquid penetrated my thin skin and my nail reddened. I tried to wipe it off on my jeans but a set of arms clamped down on me as Alice hugged and held me close.

"Bella! Oh it's so sad!" She sat down next to me and I wound an arm around her too. Alice always was very sensitive, even if it had nothing to do with her.

"It'll be fine Alice," I encouraged her. She sniffed.

"Will you hate me if I stay the night with Jasper? I just don't want to be alone. You know what I mean."

"I could never hate you. It's fine. Besides, Angela's home. I think I'm gonna try to get her to talk about her boss." Alice chuckled and released me.

"You know I love you right? You're my best friend." I smiled.

"Love you too." Alice left soon after that. She'd called Jasper and by the looks of it, she hadn't told him about what happened. He looked flabbergasted as Alice threw her small arms around his neck. He looked at me for answers but I only shrugged.

I looked at where they were last standing but only saw Charlie.

Edward was gone. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Where was he? Did he leave me? What the fuck?!

Before I got a chance to freak out even more, Charlie was beside me, talking to me.

"Bella!" I turned around. "Did you hear me?"

"Hmm? Sorry, no."

"I said, I'm taking you home now. You're staying at your real home tonight." I opened my mouth to protest but Charlie wouldn't hear it.

"I don't want you to fight me on this. You can start packing your old things now."

"Wow. Thanks dad. Nothing says you care about me like shoving me in my old room with a bunch of crap I have to pack or get rid of." Charlie looked horrified.

"Oh god sweetheart. I'm so sorry. That was so inconsiderate-"

"Dad. I'm just joking. But I'm sleeping at home."

"I don't-"

"I can't- no, I won't hide just because of what happened today. That's not who I am."

"Fine," Charlie said with a frustrated sigh. "At least consider staying the night. I don't like you staying in that small house all alone."

"I'm won't be alone. Angela will be there."

"But not a trained FBI agent." There could, as soon as she went to sleep.

"I'll be fine. I just have to call Angela." Charlie nodded and walked away and got in the car.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my address book.

"Hi Bella." She answered on the third ring.

"Hey... Listen, I don't know if you've heard what happened today…" I trailed off and waited. Her voice explained it.

"No. What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?" While I love Alice like the little annoying but overly cute little sister, Angela was definitely the older wiser one, despite only being a month older than me. no disrespect towards Alice but the little pixie couldn't keep a secret to save her life.

"Oh I'm fine. It's… ehm… I'm not sure I can tell you over the phone. You wouldn't believe me. You remember where my old house is right?"

"Sure."

"Well can you meet me there in like half an hour? It would be really nice to talk to someone."

"Of course. I'll be there. See you soon."

I hung up and opened the passenger door.

"Angela's gonna come over. Hope that's okay?"

"Of course. Just remember to-"

"Lock the doors, set the alarm, don't leave the house and whatever you do, don't open the door for strangers." I think I saw a blush on Charlie's cheeks. "Dad, I know. I'm not ten years old anymore. I have common sense now."

"Yeah I know. I can't help but see you as my little girl. In my mind you'll always be five years old and still believe in Santa Clause." I laughed.

"Dad. I knew there was no Santa when I was five. Mom already told me." Charlie grumbled.

I plopped my ear buds in and drowned out all other noises. Right now, I didn't want to deal with anything in my mind. I didn't even want to think about dealing with anything within my mind. All I wanted was for all my thoughts to disappear. As far as I was concerned, Linking Park was the only consistent thing in that moment.

After several long minutes, the driving slowed and we got into the familiar neighborhood. I saw the old park with the playground where I used to spend most my days. The four black swings, held together by a tree structure, the red metal slide with dented sides – all of this apart of me growing up and it seemed to alien right now. It felt so weird to be back. I used most of my energy to avoid these blocks. I haven't stepped inside my childhood home since I moved out to go to college.

I haven't even visited the- tears streamed into my eyes and I turned away to hide them. It did nothing good to cry. I don't know why such a mechanism even exists when it has no fundamental purpose.

My breath came in a strangled gasp as I laid eyes on the three story house I used to call home. It stood tall and yet it was one of the smallest on the block. The orange tinted roof contrasted well with the faded white painted woodened exterior.

Although the second story melted in with the roof, the first one held a kitchen, living room, bathroom and one small bedroom. There was a basement and even though it could be seen as an extra apartment and that I've been offered to stay there on numerous occasions, I couldn't spend many minutes down there alone. Especially not now.

A tower stood tall right next to my front window. Only two bedrooms and one joined bathroom could fill the top of the house.

The lawn was overgrown and mostly in yellow. The weeds grew fully at the foundation, right by the windows of the basement. The flowerbed that had once held all kinds of flowers, running from every color you could possibly imagine, was now a destroyed heap of dirt and patches of grass. It almost made me cry. My mother tended to those flowers.

I always loved this house. Even though the beauty of it remained in the air, all I could see was my own version of 112 Ocean Avenue. But without the two windows which looked like eyes.

I was still looking at the house when Charlie cleared his throat.

"What?"

"I'm sorry but I have to get back." My stomach sank.

"What?" My voice shook. "You're leaving me here?"

"You said your friend would come over."

"Dad, don't talk to me like I'm ten."

"I just don't see the problem."

"You know the problem." My voice, though shaking, was hard as steel. I saw and heard Charlie swallow.

"I have to get back. We have a killer to catch-"

"_A_ killer?" I noted, with my eyebrows shot up. Charlie looked at me with nervous but curious eyes. I now realized what he had heard. My heart pumped faster.

We stared at each other for a few moments and when I had gathered up the courage to say something, a knock on my window made me screech.

It was only Angela. She smiled lightly and I held up one finger, telling her I'd be out in one moment. I turned back towards Charlie.

"So I guess everything's fine. Bye!" Before he had a chance to answer, I took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out. The chilled air itched in my throat as it closed up from recognition and emotions.

I turned towards Angela and motioned for her get to the porch. The headlights from the SUV turned on and I watched as my father backed out of the driveway and then sped off.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

"Uhm… let's get inside first." My hands shook as I dug into my bag for my keys. They shook even harder as the metal went into the lock.

"I'll do it," Angela said softly, turning the key and opening the door. I quickly got in and the quietness of the house struck me extra hard. I took off my jacket and hung it up on an old hanger.

"Things sure haven't changed around here." I chuckled but I don't know what I found funny.

"Charlie doesn't like changes. I think that's why he'll never sell this. I don't think he could bare it." Angela nodded.

"I can see that. But why does he need your room? Doesn't this house have three bedrooms?"

"Yeah but the second one upstairs is sort of filled with stuff. Loads of stuff. Mostly mine." I grew quiet and took a deep breath.

"Well let's get to it."

--------------

"Oh my god!" Angela yelled and covered her mouth. As soon as we got to my room I had blurted out the events of the day.

"I know," I said nodding and taking a large gulp of my Vodka spiked Red Bull. I really needed that.

"But that's horrible." I shrugged.

"Is it? I mean, how should I feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't be mad that this happened, I didn't know the guy and he could be a drug dealer or a pedophile. I don't know how to feel." Angela pursed her lips for a moment, thinking it over.

"I don't think you can ask how you're supposed to feel. Emotions come and go by themselves and no one else can tell you how to express yourself. How do you feel, in this exact moment?" I drank a little more and then answered.

"I feel fine. And I know that's what everyone says but I really mean it. I feel completely normal. Yeah it was creepy and kind of disgusting to find the body but I'm fine now. I've always been good at moving on." Angela nodded.

"Of course everyone reacts differently but…" she stopped talking there.

"But?"

"But maybe you should talk to someone."

"Like a shrink?" Angela nodded. "I'm not going to talk to a therapist. They think they know me because they spend one hour of their precious time with me."

"How can you feel this was when you've gone through almost five years of psychology classes?"

"Because I wasn't planning of becoming a psychologist. I've actually been thinking of becoming a profiler."

"Like for the FBI?" I nodded.

"And please don't ask if I think that's a good thing because I really do think so. I want to help people and those really twisted ones need help. I want to know what sets them off. You know?"

"Well, not really, but I think I can imagine, maybe." I chuckled and downed the last of my drink. I sighed as I looked around my room. I was a moody kid. My walls were the darkest black I could find. The free spots around the windows of the tower were filled with writings. Lyrics, quotes and even some words of the emotion I was feeling in that moment.

Pictures in pretty silver-looking frames adorned the walls, most of them shot by me. My old Nikon digital lay at my bedside table, right where I left it. I had gotten a better one right when I moved out. My old computer was left untouched and just then I realize just how much of my old life I had replaced with new things.

"Do you want me to get started here so you can take the other room?" I shook out of my reminiscing and turned towards my friend.

"Hmmm?"

"You said you had a lot of stuff in the other room so I just thought…" I made fish faces – opening and closing my mouth rapidly – while trying to come up with something believable.

"No those things are staying besides, my dad never goes in there anyways…" I knew she could sense it from my tone and never asked about it. Alice would have bombarded me with questions. But after telling her I was good at moving on, I felt compelled to explain.

"I'm gonna show you something that I need you to keep secret." Angela nodded warily. I walked out of the room, across the hall and towards the other white bedroom door. I pulled the handle and opened.

The air felt stuffed, the room probably hadn't been visited in a few years. This was my parents' bedroom. After- Charlie never spent another night in here. I never asked him about it when he, one day, slept in the guestroom downstairs.

"That's a lot of dust," Angela noted and I nodded.

"Yeah. As you can see, no one's lived in here for a long while."

"Not to sound like a bitch but that's so sad."

"Like I said, Charlie doesn't move on. Not when it's something this big." Angela still studied the room with sad eyes.

"Can we just forget we saw this, go back to packing up the first seventeen years of my life and then get home?"

"Of course."

"And by the way, don't think I won't ask about you and that boss of yours." Angela froze and I laughed loudly.

----------------

I never thought it would go that smoothly and quickly to pack up my life. The room looked dead without all my crap. Though it had been cold even when we first got there. Two large boxes and three smaller ones. That's all it took. I didn't pack my computer. I had no use for it and even though I knew Charlie would use his own, the one from the Stone Age (literally!), I wanted him to have options.

As I put the last box in the trunk, I suddenly realized I had missed something.

"I'll be right back," I told Angela quickly before running up the steps and then the stairs. I tore through the door full of writings and quickly go over to the tower. I looked up at the small ceiling.

This was different from the rest of the ceiling. The wood panels, I realized years ago, was removable. The result of me getting in through the window, drunk and stoned out of my mind and somehow, I managed to bang my head. The next morning I found a piece of wood on the floor and now, hopefully, it still held some of my most private things.

I stood on the windowsill and reached up to pull down a loose piece of wood. I reached my hand in and felt around until I touched a small box. I put back the wood to conceal the ceiling before walking downstairs again.

I locked the door and hurried down the patch. Angela never asked about my box and I never told her.

"So you got to tell me," I slurred my words. I was on my third margarita and second shot of tequila.

"What?" Angela laughed way too much for someone who only had two margaritas. She refused to hit the tequila so I downed hers.

"I need to know. Are you doing the naughty with your boss?" I laughed as I had tried to sound serious. Angela gaped at me.

"Isabella!"

"What?" I retorted innocently. "You're talking about how wonderful he is all the time-"

"I do not!"

"And you stay at his place all the time. Something has to be happening."

"Maybe we're just friends?" She looked down and avoided eye contact.

"Because you aren't just 'friends' with guys."

"Why not?" She wheeled.

"Because you're the marrying type, not the I'm-just-having-fun-with-my-boss kinds of person."

"Am I that transparent?" I nodded furiously.

"Yeah!" The room turned in an odd angled and my head started spinning. "Whoa! Bathroom break!" Angela laughed as I stumbled my way to the bathroom. If I was going to faint or fall over or whatever, I wasn't going to do it with a witness.

I pulled down the toilet seat and sat down. Whips of hair fell in my face and I brushed them away with a hand. I was really buzzed and for some reason I really wanted a joint. Either that or a cigarette and I only smoked when I was in high school and it tasted disgusting.

I frowned at my thoughts and then my phone vibrated.

"Well hellu whoever this is."

"Bella?" Edward sounded tired. "Are you okay? You sound…"

"Drunk? Well I'm not yet but I see it coming." He was quiet then sighed.

"What are you doing? This is not a good way of dealing-"

"Dealing? With what? I'm trying to get Angela drunk so that I can get the dirt on her boss and her."

"Bella don't do this."

"Do what? Am I not _allowed_ to get drunk with my friend and gossip?"

"You can do whatever you want." His tone hurt me and I almost hung up.

"I need to talk to you." My eyes snapped up.

"Is this a 'I need to talk' in a mellow kind of voice or a 'I need to talk' I have great news?"

"Neither. Can I come over?" I huffed.

"You do remember I told you Angela's home, right?"

"Then get her drunk or something. I _need_ to talk to someone who isn't a federal agent."

"Are you condoning me forcing alcohol down her throat? Not to sound morbid or whatever but that might be turning me on a little." I heard a breathless chuckle in the other end.

"You _are_ drunk. I'm coming over in an hour either way so…"

"Okay. Bye." I hung up and pressed the red button. I took a deep breath and walked out again.

"Okay! I've got a new game!" Angela looked up, she'd been watching TV.

"What? Bella, no more drinking. I've had enough for tonight."

"Come on! Don't be such a prude. I'm not gonna take a no for an answer."

----------------

We were laughing so hard. Mine was fake but I could hear how real hers were. It was so funny. The normally prudish and well thought Angela was totally smashed and I have to say I'm proud. Not that she's finally managed to relax from her seriousness but that I managed to do it on forty-five minutes.

We both stumbled out way up the stairs. I was still buzzed and steps were had to climb. I almost crashed into the wall but managed to catch myself with my hand. We had a laughing fit after that. I pushed Angela's door open and then pushed her down on her bed. She was already asleep. I rolled my eyes. She was so new to booze. We needed to change that. I threw a blanket over her and then left her room, closing the door in my wake.

I stretched as I walked into my room and pulled my hair up in a very messy bun, whips of hair fell in front of my eyes. I changed my clothes to sweats and got one of Edward's grey hoodies. They were always so much better than mine.

By the time I got back down, there was a light knocking on the door. I smiled as I walked to open the door. Edward looked behind me, as if Angela would jump out from behind the wall.

"The cost is clear," I left the door open and walked into the living room. "The prude is passed out in her room."

"How wonderful you treat your friends." The door closed with a click. I shrugged and sat down in the dark green armchair.

"It's nothing but the truth. I've been told not to lie… too much." I leaned back and studied his form in the dim light. I didn't wait for him to say anything.

"What was Charlie talking about when he said that you had _a_ killer to catch? As to two?"

"We think it's the same guy." Ah, he was done with hesitating.

"What makes you think so?" He ignored my question.

"You were wrong. About the first victim. Her broken neck wasn't an accident." I shifted my eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"It was supposed to happen like that. The new victim had a cut just like the first. It wasn't accidental." I felt confused. Then why would he write _whore_ across Lindsay's chest? It had to be because of the effect. Otherwise it wouldn't make sense. Not that Lindsay dying makes sense but… oh it's complicated to explain!

"No," I said stubbornly.

"Bella. Its fine to be wrong but-"

"No I'm not wrong. There was absolutely no reason for the killer to write _whore_ across Lindsay's chest other than he wanted her to suffer. We would have found out about her past either way. It must be compensation for her death. If it is the same killer, the second victim should also have similar small wounds. He didn't do this because he didn't get his fantasy lived. He changed his pattern. Or formed it."

"That's crazy."

"Is it? Stranger things have happened. Lindsay didn't die painfully. This guy did. And yet _he_ felt the need to carve- what did he write?"

"Fucker. Down his chest and stomach" I wasn't going to comment on that.

"And yet he felt the need to carve fucker onto his chest and stomach. He's evolving. Something about the first victim must have roused him. He must have liked the reception of the writing."

"You're saying this as if he's near."

"He probably is. Serial killers tend to stay close, observe the investigation."

"We don't know if we're dealing with a serial killer yet."

"I think we are. He's killed within a week. He's getting restless, bored. An adrenalin junkie needs his fix a lot more often than a regular one."

"Holy fuck!"

* * *

**AN: Holy Fuck indeed! I'm not going to give anything away until the very last moment. I'm not even going to tell you if I know who the killer is or if it's a girl or a boy but I think Bella's on to something. He or she could be near. **

**So I wasn't going to Google houses to get some inspiration, I had one just fine in my mind but then I did Google (I love it so much!) and I found this gorgeous house. The link is on my profile.  
I just finished the newest episode of Criminal Minds. I'll say it again, I love that show! You know, I may write more crime stories. Maybe I'm just morbid and like to write about death but there's something interesting about the story. I really should study psychology. **


	7. Memories

**AN: Amazingly enough, I have nothing to say right now so let's get right to the story… **

* * *

_Memories _

**BPOV **

_I took a deep breath. I hated doing things like this. I don't know why I let myself get sucked into this. That's not true. I knew why. My father. He really knew how to make me feel guilty for absolutely nothing. I rolled my eyes as the car started to roll again. _

"_What's wrong?" I looked towards the driver seat. _

"_What do you mean?" Charlie shrugged. _

"_You look kind of… down." I huffed. _

"_You knew I didn't want to go tonight." He sighed. _

"_This means a lot to me and I don't want to go by myself." _

"_So I have to share the boredom?" _

"_Give it a rest Bella. You're going. Now stop arguing and be a good daughter," I grimaced at his condescending tone. _

"_There better be an open bar," I muttered. Charlie laughed. _

"_Not that you'll have any use of it but there is." I made a face at him. _

"_I'm twenty years old dad. It's not like I haven't been drinking before." _

"_That's nothing I want to hear about," Charlie said back with a grunt. _

"_Or what? You're gonna arrest me?" _

"_Stop it Bella." I rolled my eyes again and turned my focus to the city passing by. It was cold as the fucking north pole and yet no snow. The only time I thought it appropriate to be this cold; there should at least be snow to minor our suffering. _

_The car continued to roll down the busy street. Five other red-lights and one very pissed off Range Rover owner; we pulled up to the giant building. Christmas lights adorned the entrance and while it looked pretty form the outside, it was only the exterior. I knew what waited inside. Even though this was the annual FBI Christmas ball – or whatever you're supposed to call it – it was a load of bull. The only ones who got anything out of this were the fat and bald bosses who sat on their asses all day, dictating like they were the fucking kings of this entire business. All they wanted was to show off and people – as stupid as they are – went with it. _

_A wallet opened my door, making me feel awkward and I stepped out. The chilled air hit my exposed arms. That was another con to this. I had to wear a fucking dress and I hate wearing a dress. Of course, Alice had a field day. She dragged me to a hundred different stores, trying to get me a "perfect dress". Like such a thing actually existed, but I humored her and listened to Michael Jackson's discography the entire time. _

_But I think she deliberately dragged me around for over five hours to see if my mood would lighten. It never did and the frown was stitched to my face, even when she squealed and yelled "this is it, this is it!" _

_I had looked over her choice – and I would never admit this – but it wasn't ugly. Of course it was way too fancy so I could never really like it. A black cocktail dress with a slight Grecian air about it. At least she didn't make me wear the hideous pink one she found. _

_I grabbed my clutch and walked in beside Charlie. The warm air felt great against my cold skin. The crowded room always made me feel nervous. I hated large crowds. At least large crowds of people I don't know. _

_I turned to fins Charlie but he was already laughing with some suits, drink in hand. I huffed in annoyance and walked into the giant ballroom. A waiter walked in front of me with a silver tray of champagne filled glasses. I stopped him and grabbed a glass, taking a small sip and then a large gulp. _

"_Did you run a marathon or something?" I almost choked on my drink. I coughed and turned around. Holy fuck. It wasn't just anyone who stood behind be but it was a guy and not just any guy because this guy was gorgeous. All my thoughts disappeared from my mind and I knew I was staring. He smirked after a few seconds and that's when I realized he has spoken to me. _

"_No, why?" I knew he must have been sarcastic but that was all I could say. _

"_Drinking a little fast there don't you think?" I grimaced, thinking of why I was drinking in the first place. _

"_Well I have my reasons. Getting dragged here and then abandoned as soon as I walk in is not what I find enjoyable." I smiled a hard smile, emptying my glass. _

_Another waiter came by. I traded my old glass for a new one. I studied the hot one in front of me. _

"_You're new," I commented. He raised his eyebrows. _

"_And you're not?" I laughed in ridiculousness. _

"_Definitely not. No I have been coming here against my will for years and years. Or at least it feels like it's been that long." I stopped talking. I usually did that when I was nervous. _

"_And you notice everyone who comes here?" He got a crooked grin, one which I almost melted. I smirked back. _

"_No but I'm sure I would have noticed you." His grin got even more prominent now. _

"_What's your name?" I was about to answer when the one person with the worst timing interrupted us. _

"_Bella!" My father said happily as he came up to my side. I almost yelled at him to get the fuck lost. Almost. The guys smile faded. _

"_I see you've met Edward." My eyebrows scrunched up. "My new partner."_

_Aw crap!_

My eyes shot open. For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. I finally recognized my living room and the fact that the entire house smelled like fried eggs. I frowned at the light pouring in from the windows and slowly sat up, rubbing my aching neck in the process.

I yawned, raking a hand through my hair, feeling the softness but yet haystack-like mess.

"Ah, you're not dead." I whipped my hair to my right. I saw Alice over the half sized wall into the kitchen. So she was behind the odor.

"Why would I be dead?" I asked in a hoarse voice, getting off the couch and sitting down on one of the three chairs at the half wall.

"You did sleep on the couch." I shrugged. "That couch is horrible." I cracked my neck.

"It's not completely horrible." But I winced as my neck turned a specific angle. I grimaced.

"We need to get a new couch." Alive smiled and went to the fridge.

"Where's Angela?" Her laugh echoed into the fridge.

"Sleeping off that hangover you so kindly provided her with last night. Way to go, by the way!" I chuckled.

"It was time for her to see what all the fuss was about."

"Indeed. And did _you_ find out about her and the boss, doing the naughty." I laughed.

"I asked her that the same way. She's being unreasonable quiet. I'm not entirely sure but I think she kind of confirmed a thing."

"Well that's good enough for me!" I winced.

"Will you keep it down? I wasn't entirely sober last night."

"Oops. Sorry."

I rubbed my forehead as Alice sat down next to me and put a plate in front of me. I started picking at the yellow substance.

"What's wrong?" I looked up.

"Hmm?"

"You seem kind of down."

"I'm fine. I have a huge test coming up." I never liked to lie to Alice but it's not like I could tell her about dead people. She would think I'm crazy and call my father.

"You'll do fine. You know this shit expertly. It's kind of creepy." I snickered and turned around as I heard someone get down the stairs. Angela clutched her head and squinted her eyes against the light.

"Good morning sunshine," Alice chimed. Angela grimaced.

"What the hell did I drink last night?"

"Breaking out the h word are we?" I spoke condescendingly. Angela never swore. And always chastised us when we did. "You'll be fine. It's only tequila."

"I hate it."

"That's common in the aftermath."

"What time is it?" Alice and Angela started talking and I slowly drowned out their voices. I kept thinking back to my dream. Statistic show that it's not uncommon to dream of a memory. But why was I dreaming about this? Well… I knew why. Those few moments where Edward and I spoke together, I wish I had that back; the anonymity. I didn't know who he was and he didn't know who I was. I wished he wasn't Charlie's partner and I even, at times, wished I wasn't Charlie's daughter. Things would so much easier.

Maybe I was just panicking. I wasn't used to being with a guy for this long. Usually, I grew bored after a week but with Edward you never could get bored.

I excused myself, leaving my plate untouched and getting upstairs to take along and very relaxing bath. I pulled my hair back in clip before getting down, letting the warmth surround me and my mind to wander. It went immediately to the two dead victims.

**EPOV **

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about the possibility that-"

"That our UNSUB could be a member of the FBI!"

"I did not say that."

"But you might as well have. Who else could it be?"

"Now you're insinuating it."

"Don't talk back to me."

"Then don't completely shut this out just yet-"

"How did you even think about this?"

I sighed deeply. We were getting nowhere. I had told Charlie everything Bella said last night.

Not that Bella said it. Of course. But Charlie wasn't really open to any of it.

"Because the first victim's death doesn't make sense."

"Of course it doesn't make sense. An eighteen year old girl is dead." I shook my head.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Her wounds were too painless. I'm willing to be that the killer didn't want her to break her neck."

"Then she would be alive right now-"

"No she wouldn't. I think he wanted her to die painfully."

"So you're saying you wanted her to have been mutilated-"

"What the hell Swan! Will you shut up for one second! You're putting words in my mouth."

"I just want to understand where these insane thoughts came from."

"Why are they insane?"

"Because you are saying that the killer has changed his tactics, he didn't want the first victim to die painless and that our UNSUB might be someone we know."

"You know. I never said it could be someone we know but now that you said it, that's not a bad thought. Serial killers, or killers in general, likes to stay close, follow the investigation and some even likes to give us clues as to how to solve the case."

"Did you come up with all of this by yourself?" I hesitated.

"Not… entirely." It wasn't a lie.

"Sounds like the one who helped you with this is kind of twisted." I tried not to hit him. It was hard but manageable. My teeth clenched.

"No she's-" I stopped. Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"She huh? Is this the same _she_ you were talking to on the phone the other day?" I didn't answer.

"Well then that explains is. You know you could get fired for discussing the case with a civilian. And you may be reevaluated because you actually listened to this girl's insane thoughts."

"Reevaluated? Are you fucking kidding me?!" I shook my head in incredulousness. "I shouldn't have said anything-"

"No you shouldn't have," Charlie laughed, as if to say why the fuck I'd even bring it up it's so ridiculous. I sighed.

"Then you give me a reliable profile of this killer." I waited but he didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought."

"Just because I don't have a profile this exact moment, doesn't mean you're right. I still think you sound like those guessers in the BEU. Like my daughter." I looked away nonchalantly.

"Well they're more right than you. And profiling the way they do is not guessing. You sound like a lawyer." Charlie snorted.

"Don't compare me to one of those life sucking leeches." I rolled my eyes.

"Then stop acting like one." We stared at each other long and hard before I turned away.

"We're getting nowhere." Charlie sighed and sat back in his chair.

"No. And I'm getting pressured to have this case solved and soon." I snorted.

"They don't think we want it solved?"

"I don't know. But if we don't have any progress soon, they'll turn the case over to someone else."

"They can't do that!"

"Yes they can. Anyway… we're getting down to the morgue. Avery called before you got here. He's done with the first victim's autopsy."

"Then let's go."

----------------

"What do you have for us?" Charlie asked as Avery got up from his desk with a lot of papers.

"Her broken neck was the sole cause of death. She had no internal bleedings or unexpected hemorrhaging." He walked over to a glass screen to watch a few x-rays.

"She has a dent on her forehead which consists with her broken neck. She slammed the front of her head against something round and this lead to-"

"Something round?" I interjected.

"Yes. The dent made quite an impact. She must have fallen from quite a distance."

"How far away?"

"Enough to make a crack in her skull."

"What else can you tell?"

"Well… she wasn't raped but she wasn't a virgin that's for sure."

"That consists with what the step-mom told us," I said to Charlie, whom nodded.

"We need to talk to her friend. What's her name?" I raked my brain to remember.

"Tara, I think. I got her address in my office." I turned back to Avery.

"Her stomach was very empty. She was malnourished and marks on her knuckles suggest she was bulimic." I sighed.

"What isn't wrong with this girl?"

"Her lunges have enough damage to rule out she was against smoking. Her liver shows sign of alcohol poisoning and her brain was, literally, on the verge of getting fried."

"Elaborate?"

"She was taking crystal meth."

"Oh my god." This was just too much. How could one girl do this to herself?

"There's anyway her killer did this to her?" Avery shook his head.

"No. This had been brewing for quite some time." Both Charlie and I nodded in confirmation and after gathering copies of the autopsy report, we headed back up to get information about the victim's friend.

----------------

"Tara Miller. I know I've heard that name before."

"She's the daughter of Lawrence Miller." Charlie looked at me with lost eyes. "He's the founder of Miller Enterprises. They make cosmetics."

"How do you know all this?" I shrugged.

"No idea."

We drove for another twenty minutes before slowing down as we got off the freeway and got into a quiet neighborhood. The one you expect to see kids playing at each corner. It seemed so out of place.

At the end of the road, a house – or maybe more like a mansion – stood tall. It was surrounded by a large metal fence. A gate with spikes on top, crossed our path and Charlie pressed a button, getting a dialing tone.

"_Yes?"_ A bored crackling voice greeted us.

"FBI, let us in," Charlie answered. The voice was quite for e moment.

"_May I see your badge?"_ Charlie sighed heavily before fishing up his badge and letting it show to the small security camera. It took a few extra moments before something buzzed and the gates opened wide enough for us to drive up to the main entrance.

We came to a break in front of a large fountain. Everything about this house screamed ostentatious. A man in a bluish suit came out of the front door with a fake smile plastered on his face.

"Good morning," He cheered, again, with fake enthusiasm.

"You Lawrence Miller?" Charlie cut it right to the chase.

"No. I'm Mr. Miller's personal attorney." Charlie grimaced. What's with him and lawyers?

"We need to speak to a Tara Miller."

"Miss Miller is not present at the time. Anything you have to say to my client, you may say to me." I saw how the veins in Charlie's nick popped. I could understand now. This guy was slowly starting to piss me off.

"We are not to discuss any developing cases. We need to speak to Miss Miller as soon as possible," I said without clenthing my teeth. It was hard.

"Do you have a warrant?" My brows scrunched in confusion. What the hell is his problem?!

"No."

"Then you don't need to speak to my client at this moment. Come back when you have one."

"We do not need a warrant to speak to anyone. And if you continue to refuse to tell us where Miss Miller is, we can arrest you now in allegations of compromising an ongoing case and hold you for forty-eight hours, without blinking." The lawyer pursed his lips. He did not look pleased.

"We're here to talk to her." He didn't look pleased and before we could say anything else, he turned on his heal, walking back to the front door. We followed quickly.

Leading us to a huge parlor, we sat down on a couch and were told to wait here. The lawyer disappeared out of sight.

"I hate lawyers," Charlie grumbled from my left.

"What's with you and lawyers?" He didn't say anything and before I had time to ask anything else, the lawyer was back and this time, another person was with him. Tara was the complete opposite of Lindsay.

Dark brown unmade hair with long bangs framed her small face. She couldn't have been longer than 5,1". She was wearing a too-large band t-shirt and worn jeans. Somehow, she reminded me of Bella.

Charlie was the first one to stand up.

"I'm Special Agent Charlie Swan and this is my partner Edward Masen." We shook hands and Tara, along with the annoying lawyer sat down opposite us.

"So what's this about?" Tara asked, leaning back. Obviously, this was a huge hassle for her to sit here with us for a few minutes.

"How well do you know Lindsay Bundy?" I asked. Before she had a time to answer, her lawyer spoke.

"You don't have to answer any questions. I'm advising you not to." Tara looked at the annoying little man with an incredulous expression.

"I heard you the first time." She huffed in annoyance and turned back to us.

"We were friends."

"Were?" She couldn't know Lindsay was dead. Unless the parents had called her and those odds were pretty slim.

"Yeah well, even since _she_ left, we haven't really been talking."

"Did you know where she went?"

"I don't know." I knew she was lying.

"Really?" Not the lawyer spoke again.

"I'm advising you to stay quiet Tara."

"Will you shut up?! Okay! I know where she was going. I just don't want to talk about it."

"Is this about how Lindsay…" I stopped, thinking how I should fraise this.

"How Lindsay what?"

"We have suspicion to believe that Lindsay was having sex for money." Tara looked away.

"So you knew about this?" She nodded, looking sad.

"Tara. Don't say anything-"

"Shut the fuck up! Either that or leave!" The lawyer stayed quiet but looked like a spoiled brat.

"I knew about her… job."

"Do you know why?" She shrugged.

"I don't know. I asked her about it ever since I found out but she only says she needed the money."

"So just to be clear. You weren't in this… business also?" Tara snorted.

"Does it look like I need money that badly?" She had a point.

"I told her to quit it, said that if she needed money that bad that I would give it to her. We've been friends since we were six." I nodded.

"Do you know why Lindsay would go to Rockford?" Tara shrugged again.

"I don't know. She never talked about that with me. She had her other friends for that."

"Who exactly is that?"

"I don't know. I don't exactly run with that crowd?"

"Which crowd is that?"

"The street crowd. I'm not gonna lie and say I've never tried drugs but they are doing it every day, all day."

"Why would Lindsay be around them?"

"Probably because of her parents. She just found out her mother is actually her stepmother."

"Yes. We know."

"Maybe she just wanted the paint o go away. It's not that uncommon." I nodded, taking down some mental notes.

"You know where Lindsay is, don't you?" Tara asked warily. Charlie started speaking now.

"Yes."

"Is she okay?" I looked away as Charlie broke the news.

"No. Lindsay was found Friday morning in an alley." Tara took a shuddering breath and leaned forward.

"How?"

"You don't want to know," I said quickly.

"Oh god."

"Are you sure you don't know why she would travel to Rockford?" Tara shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I didn't even know she was leaving until the day she left. She called me, told me she was getting out of town for a while. I tried to get her to meet me but she didn't want that. She- uhm… I don't know. I keep trying to remember what she said but I don't…"

"Just take a moment."

"I think- I think that maybe she was going with someone."

"Who?" Charlie and I said simultaneously.

"I don't know. She never mentioned a name but I'm pretty sure it was a girl."

"What makes you sure?"

"Lindsay never really trusted guys. I know that weird since she had sex with them every other day but she never trusted them. Didn't feel safe."

"Do you know who killer her?" I shook my head.

"But I promise we're going to find out." Tara nodded and we left soon after that.

----------------

"So the stepmothers suspicions were true," Charlie commented.

"Not something you want to be right on."

"So where are we now?"

"She was working as a prostitute and most likely running away with a friend. Obviously she took the news of her stepmother pretty bad and turned to drugs, sex and alcohol."

"But why did she deserve to die?" Charlie asked. I shrugged.

"I'm sure it has something to do with the word written on her chest. But let's lay this to the side and focus on the other killing. Do we have an id yet?" Charlie nodded slowly.

"His name was Tommy Doyle. He was never reported missing since he lies alone and he doesn't have any immediate family."

"Then how-"

"Because he lived in the middle of the woods. That house on the hilltop is his. Or was. His girlfriend opened the door. Or at least we think she's his girlfriend. She was so drunk and high when they knocked on the door that she almost fell to the floor."

"Is she still at his house?"

"No. right now she's in county jail, getting released around four this afternoon. We have to make it back in time."

"Where are we going now?"

"To take a second look at his house. Local PD has already been there but I don't trust them enough to handle this."

----------------

"So what do you think we'll find?" I asked as we went under the yellow tape and through the unlocked front door.

"I don't know. I really hope a murder weapon so that we can pin it on the girlfriend."

"You really think she did it?"

"Maybe not intentionally. But when you're stoned, you could do almost anything. Even something you don't want to." I wasn't convinced, it just seemed too easy.

"I'm going to take the bedroom," I said and wandered off, leaving Charlie in the living room.

The house, though only one story, was still very large. The master bedroom was no exception. I shook my head the ostentatious way of Mr. Doyle. I opened drawers, looking over the contents. One thing was for sure, Tommy liked sex. And lots of it. his bedside tables were filled with foiled packages.

His computer was gone. Or at least I think there had been a computer. Speakers still stood with half a meter apart. I opened a thin drawer right beneath the front of the desk and b-e-autiful; a 10" laptop laid in silence. I took it out and fired it up. Password protected.

"Fuck," I muttered and pressed for a clue. There was none. What the fuck is wrong with this idiot? I looked around the room for any clues as to what the password could be. Nothing which immediately caught my eye. I left it alone and went into the bathroom.

Bluish colored toothpaste covered the sink and small dots on the mirror. I opened the cabinet beneath the sink but it was mostly empty, except for a few cleaning supplies. I got back to the bedroom and the laptop. I searched for a day-planner but found none. I guess the cops must have taken it.

I shut the small drawer but something rattled in it and so I opened the wider. Pills, lots of pills. _Vicodin_ was stamped on a few and the rest said _Xanax_. I slipped them into an evidence bag and walked out, with the laptop securely underneath my arm.

* * *

**AN: I'm not sure what say. I have never written a story this fast before. It's amazing, really. I'm pretty sure where I want this story to end up and I'm so far into the future that I might be thinking of doing a sequel or at least another one like this one. **


	8. Arguments

_Arguments _

EPOV

"Look what I found," I dangled the bag in the air. Charlie looked up from his place in the kitchen. He also held up a bag but his contained a green oregano-like substance.

"Right back at you."

"So obviously," I said, getting closer. "Tommy was into heavy drugs. I think we can establish that victim number one's writing was because of her ways of life, maybe Tommy's was too?" Charlie pursed his lips.

"Maybe. But why write _fucker_? Why not druggy or addict?"

"Too obvious, maybe?"

"This case is getting weird."

"Maybe he knew his killer? Maybe he or she was really pissed."

"She? Getting back to that?"

"We never ruled it out."

"But come on Masen. That's ridiculous. Female killers are too few."

"But not unheard of. I'm not saying it's a woman. But we don't know since the victimology changes and that the only pattern is the writing across their chests. We have nothing and no offence Swan but I'm leaning towards letting professional profilers help with this case."

"So you've gone over to the dark side?" I sighed deeply.

"There's no _dark_ side. We need to solve this case before the killer strikes again."

"You think he will?"

"Yeah. He killed again after only three days. And if we don't hurry up, he's going to do it on two days, or maybe even one. What if we're up to five bodies a day? Then what?"

"It won't be that bad."

"How can you even say that?"

"Because I believe we can solve this case without psychological bullshit."

"It's not bullshit! What the fuck is wrong with asking for help? We're in over our heads and we're going to drown if we don't have a lead before the end of this day." Charlie looked away, shaking his head.

I was going to yell some more at him but my phone buzzed.

"What?!" I shouted, not looking at the screen before.

"_Jeezh! What fucking side of the bed did you wake up on this morning?"_ I quickly walked out on the porch, Charlie was looking after me suspiciously but I ignored him.

"I'm really sorry. But just so you know, your father's an ass." She laughed.

"_Yeah I know. Having problems with the case?"_

"You have no idea."

"_Where are you?" _

"Latest victim's house."

"_You know who it is- was?"_

"Yep. Tommy Doyle. Looks like he's been living off a trust found and popping various pills every chance he got."

"_That's pathetic. Wait. Is… is that hillside house his?" _

"How do you know about that?"

"_Alice and I saw it right before finding him. It's a nice house."_

"Yeah," I rubbed my forehead. "We're way out of our league here B. Charlie's fighting with me on getting outside help. I don't know what to do anymore." I leaned on the railing.

"_I'm sorry. But I'm sure everything's going to be-"_

"Please don't way it's going to be fine. That's so cliché."

"_I know. Sorry. I'm just not sure what to say."_

"No, I know you don't. But you're smart. I mean really and freakishly smart and I really need your brain right now." The phone filled with chuckles.

"_You know you're getting lucky either way. You don't have to make up such things."_

"Stop second-guessing yourself. I hated it when you do that. You're the smartest person I know. Can I meet you for lunch? Do you work today?"

"_Yep. Apparently finding a human body doesn't allow one to get a day off." _

"Asshole," I mocked.

"_Don't mock me. Meet at pizza hut in an hour?" _

"Sure. I'll see you then." I hung up and got back inside. Charlie wasn't there. I got to the front door and saw him standing by the car. He looked pissed.

"Hey. What's going on?" I said lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know anymore."

"Don't know what?"

"Anything. I just got off the phone with the bosses and they think we're doing a shitty job, more or less. They want to give the case so someone else. I'm grasping at straws at this point. They are giving us twenty-four hours."

"Then what?"

"Then we lose the case."

----------------

**BPOV **

I raced home after school finished. My leg hurt with every step I took. I even had a nasty bruise to show from my encounter with the cement stairs. By the time I limped my way into the living room, I was starting to look like I was handicapped.

"Why are you limping?" Alice asked from her spot by the TV, eating cereals and milk. I grimaced at the thought.

"I hit my leg at the school stairs a few days ago. It didn't really start hurting until today."

"Aw. Poor you," Alice cooed mockingly. I threw a pillow at her, which she ducked under neatly. "Wanna have lunch?" I looked away for a second.

"Sorry but I can't. I have to get to the library and do some research. I have a massive essay that's due in a week."

"Okay," Alice shrugged off. I'm not sure whether it's good or bad that she's that easy to lie to. I wasn't going to think about it any longer. I was late. Really late.

I raced as fast as I could to my room, changed out of my sweatpants and threw on the first pair of jeans I could spot. I pulled my hair up in a bun and then went back downstairs.

"Gotta go!" I yelled as I went to get my shoes.

"Wait! You-"

"It's a ten page essay Alice and I've barely started." I didn't let her say anything else as I was already halfway out the door. I slammed it shut and ran down the street.

As I got to pizza hut, Edward was already there, staring intently at his phone.

"Hey," I said softly as I sat down next to him. He grunted in response but didn't look up. I leaned over as read over his shoulder.

"Do you ever stop working?"

"No." I rolled my eyes and drank some water. Finally, he stuffed away his phone and turned towards me. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"There's still time. It's not even been a week-"

"We have twenty-four hours to find _something_ or we lose the case."

"What? They can't do that."

"Actually they can. Maybe they're right."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's been days and we haven't gotten one valuable clue together. We don't even know what _gender_ our UNSUB is." I stayed quiet. It was better to let him vent than try to say things would be fine. It always is an empty and shallow consolation for people who didn't really care. If you did you would say the truth not something from a fantasy of reality.

"You're not going to like this but your father is completely incapable on compromising." I sighed. I really didn't want to fight now but if he needed it…

"I know. But to be sure. What's he fighting about now?"

"Getting outside help." That made me scrunch up my brows.

"What? Why would he- Oooooh. He doesn't like _guessers_ to help catch this killer." I felt rage boil. It was one thing for Charlie to argue with me over this but to refuse help in catching a killer – who may be on a scarily short fuse and finding a new victim as we speak – is just foolish and plain childish. I shook my head and sighed.

"Do you know why he-"

"Yeah. It's a really long story though." My voice got quieter and something about it made Edward not ask. But I knew he wouldn't forget.

"So… how was class?" He brought a few strings of hair out of my face and pulled them behind my ear. I smirked. He was good at changing the subject.

----------------

After we'd eaten way too much – I'm serious, I think I swallowed my entire weight in cheese – we said goodbye, which I preferred to happen in his apartment but work called; Edward words, not mine. I pursed my lips as I thought of what I would do, having two hours until I had to get to work.

Not wanting to feel like a complete hypocrite, I went to the library, making a beeline for the psychology section. But when I got there, I found myself frowning and looking in different directions. Studying was so far down my list right now.

My feet wandered slowly towards the autobiography section. I skipped the egotism from "authors" Paris Hilton and likes. Who knew she was even capable of spelling well enough for it to be a whole book?

No, the interesting stuff arrived with the crimes. Titles like _'Conversations with a killer'_ caught my eye, and for good reasons. I gave up trying not to sound too morbid every time I said this but Ted was an interesting guy. Psychotic and completely nuts, yes, but interesting none the less.

I grabbed the paperback and leaned against the shelf. I skipped the forewords and then started reading.

When my legs started to ache with the effort of standing so still for such a long time – by this time I'd read over twenty pages. I slid my phone open and sighed as I had to put back the book. I started working in twenty minutes.

----------------

"Bella!" I cringed as I locked my locker and turned around, finding my supervisor standing in the doorway.

"Yeah?" I asked with a sigh.

"Clean up in isle five. A kid got too close to the cleaning supplies." I groaned.

"They are not kids, they're fucking animals," I grumbled as I grabbed a mob.

I groaned even louder as I got to isle five and saw the mess. Un-fucking-believable. I think it was my current job that made me never want to have kids, ever. To think that there could be even a remote chance I'll be one of the idiots who bring their kids to these places and don't keep an eye out makes me shudder in horror.

No, kids were a menace and I'd be happy with fifty barking dogs instead of one screaming baby. Some thought this made me sound cynical but really, it's just practical.

"Excuse me?" I straightened and looked up. An overweight woman with shocking ginger hair and way, way too much make-up on stood hunched and smiled at me.

"Yes?"

"Where do you keep the- uhm… you know that thing?" She spoke with a deep southern accent which – no offence to all southern people - made her sound like a cousin-lover hillbilly.

"No."

"It's like a fork but not. Think there's a knife too. All in one."

"You mean a spork?" I was literally five seconds away from bursting out laughing.

"I don't know. The name doesn't sound familiar."

"A spork is a fork combined with a spoon."

"Yes that's it. But I think you're wrong with the name. It sounds wrong."

"The name is right. It's in kitchen supplies, isle seventeen." She nodded with a small frown and strolled away with her nose high in the air, like she was the fucking queen, wiggling her hips like she had a wedgie. I stared after her and then turned back to the mess on the floor. People are freaks.

"But it's the same one." I stopped working and looked for the noises.

"This one has mustard on it."

"It's a plastic hotdog."

"I can't have mustard on it. Muffin doesn't like mustard." Oh this I had to see. I went two isles down and peeked around the corner. Lauren was having some difficulty with an old lady.

"It's a dog's _chew toy_. It's not real." The old lady wouldn't budge.

"Muffin doesn't like mustard!"

"Muffin's a dog! And this is a _plastic_ toy! It doesn't matter because it's not _real_ mustard!" She spotted me and looked so annoyed I thought she would kill the lady. That would have been funny to watch. I laughed a little as I closed in on them.

"Is there a problem?" The old lady sneered at Lauren, whom huffed back, and turned to me. She must have a permanent frown on her face, smile free since 1946.

"Yes there's a problem! My Muffin needs that chew toy." She pointed at the top of the shelf. The exact same one – the one she was holding – was also on a lower shelf.

"You're holding it," I pointed out.

"But this has mustard on it!" I looked at Lauren and she nodded, rolling her finger against her temple, miming 'crazy'. I tried to hold it together.

"Lady. I can assure you that that one up there is the exact same one with the exact same mustard on it."

"But I can't buy a toy with mustard on it!"

"Fuck Lady! The mustard isn't real! Your dog won't care. Your dog won't even see there's mustard on the fucking toy!" The lady leaned away from me, looking horrified.

"That is not the proper way for a young lady to talk."

"Don't tell me how to speak. And I'm not much for a lady anyways."

"I am going to complain to your supervisor." She threw the toy down on the floor, making it squeal and jump against the linoleum.

"Go ahead!" I yelled as she walked away, making her jump. I turned back to Lauren.

"Wow that felt good." She laughed.

"Thanks. I was ready to stuff that sausage down her throat."

"You and me both." I then got back to isle five and finished cleaning up the green and yellow liquids. The fumes made me dizzy and a little high and a few times I chuckled for absolutely no reason. I was lucky the place was thinning of people.

----------------

On my way home I stopped at a fast food place and picked up a veggie burger with whole-wheat bread. I don't know how people could eat white bread. It tastes like air.

I was completely ready to sit down in my room, eat in peace and watch a few Brothers & Sisters episodes. But once I got inside I was stopped in my tracks by Alice who – by all intents and purposes – looked like I had just slapped her or something.

"What?" I asked warily. She glared at me.

"What the hell was that before?"

"What are you-"

"I'm talking about when you just stormed out of here when I was talking to you."

"I was late. I needed to study. Don't be such a bitch."

"Yeah. You left in such a hurry you didn't even have time to grab your books." Alice motioned towards my discarded books on the kitchen counter. Oh.

"I was at the library. They have books; that's their thing."

"Aha." She didn't sound convinced. "What's happening Bella?"

"What are you talking about? Nothing happening."

"Yes it is. You lie all the time where you're going-"

"No I don't. And what? I _need_ to tell you where I am at every second of the day? You're not my mother!" Alice remained completely unfazed.

"No but I am your friend. I demand that you tell me what's been going on!"

"Oh you _demand_ me do you? You know what? Not that anything's going on and if it was, I wouldn't tell _you_! You _always_ need to know everything even if it has absolutely nothing to do with you! You don't need to know everything Alice! Get a fucking grip, grow up and stop acting like such a busybody!" I turned on my heel and went out the door again, slamming it way too hard in my wake.

I could already feel my face burning with unshed tears. I started walking down the street, stomping furiously at the concrete. I have fought with Alice before but nothing like this. I was right and yet I felt guilty. Alice did ask too many questions than she should. She should know that she couldn't always get her way by making empty threats and stomp her foot like a spoiled brat.

As soon as I thought that, I felt even guiltier. But I tried keeping my mind on how pissed I was at Alice. Misplacing sadness for anger is not uncommon when faced with uncertainties. I shook my head.

You know you're annoying when you irritate yourself by psychoanalyzing every move you make. Some steps you take don't have a meaning; they're just made by the mind and completely unconscious. It's impossible to be aware of everything you do, every second of the day.

I shivered in the cold wind as I walked into the park. I slowed down. This park was beautiful in the spring, summer and even autumn time. But winter completely ruined it. Now it looked nothing better than a graveyard and even though they had their charm – even with the morbidity – they still gave me the creeps.

Fuck! I think too much.

Before I knew where I was going, I was on a bus and it stopped right in front of the Navy Pier. I jumped off and waited for the vehicle to pass me before going across the large street. I walked along the sideline, getting dizzy as I looked at the very top of the Ferris wheel. Heights had never been my strong side.

The air felt frozen and hurt my throat. But I breathed it in with greed, feeling the sting, embracing it. The pier was longer than I remembered. Probably because the last time I was here I was fifteen. Back when things were normal. Well not normal but nothing like now, so normal was all I could identify it with.

That's such an abstract word, normal. What is _normal_, anyway? What some might consider the term; others thought it odd and strange. So by saying something is normal is abnormal in itself. Or is it?

I rolled my eyes at myself and repeated the first ten minutes of Transformers in my mind. I had never been this glad I saw that movie as I was at that moment. I was distracted.

My walking slowed as I came to the end of the pier. The water sloshed against the sides of the pier foundation and rocks nearby. I came to the edge and watched the dark vast water and wondered for a moment how it would feel against my skin. Probably like needles digging into my flesh but besides the pain, I imagine it would feel liberating.

Getting away from the edge and my semi-unrealistic suicidal thoughts, I sat down on a dark bench, the coldness hitting my thighs hard but it seemed too insignificant that I barely acknowledged it.

Some people walked by in silence, enjoying the ice evening, even with the cold, while some chattered loudly, laughing and hugging close to each other. I pulled my feet up, wrapping my arms around my legs. I rested my chin on my knees, and listened to the sounds around me.

I don't know how long I sat there but it must have been a while since it was long enough for Edward to find me and sit down next to me. He didn't' say anything and neither did I. For a while at least.

"How'd you find me?" I whispered, not looking at him.

"You told me."

"I told you I'd be at the Navy Pier after I ran out of my own home after I got into a huge fight with my best friend?"

"Well… not exactly like that but you did tell me this was the only place you frequently visited when you were younger. And people don't go to random places after running out of their homes. They go somewhere familiar." I didn't say anything. "Know who told me that?" I sighed.

"No idea but I can only assume it's a genius." He laughed.

"You're right. She is." I sighed and leaned my head against Edward shoulder. I felt him shift and my back was against his chest.

"What are you doing here?" He placed a few fingers in my hair.

"Do you want me to leave?" I shook my head. "Alice called your dad. You've been gone for two hours Bella. She was freaking out, yelled this was her fault." I rolled my eyes. Along with overly sensitive, Alice was the biggest drama queen I knew.

"Of course she had to make it about herself."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Don't you have more work?"

"Not for tonight. It can wait." I smiled at that.

"Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"Of course. Do you mind if we leave? It's freezing."

"Sure."

Once we got in the car I got my phone and turned it on. I had ten texts and seven missed calls. I deleted all of them. I knew who they were from but I wasn't ready to talk to Alice yet. I knew I was acting like such a bitch but it's better to know you're a bitch than act all ignorant.

"You're not going got talk to her?"

"Nope. She doesn't have anything to say that I want to hear."

"What did you fight about?" I blew out a breath of air.

"Alice thinks I'm keeping things from her."

"Ah."

"I said she was crazy – more or less. Then I got mad because she always needs to know everything – which is true – and then I told her to stop acting like such a spoiled brat and grow up." I turned towards Edward with raised eyebrows.

"So why are you mad at her?"

"You weren't listening at all do you?"

"I just don't get it."

"Of course you don't. You're a guy. You're not supposed to get it. You're just supposed to nod and agree with everything I say."

"Even if I think you're wrong?" I turned my head fast.

"Technically, yes. But only if I'm wrong and in this case, I'm not." My voice got hard and I turned my head to look out the window.

"I don't want to fight tonight," Edward said softly as he stopped in front of his apartment complex.

"Neither do I," I replied with a sigh and got out.

I dropped hard onto the couch and closed my eyes. I lay down while putting me feet up, running a hand through my hair. Opening my eyes, I saw Edward in the kitchen, sifting through a stack of papers. Probably his mail. He threw them down on the table and sighed heavily.

"How much time do you have?" I asked in a whisper but he heard me. He came over to the couch and sat down on the armrest by my feet.

"Noon tomorrow. We met with the "girlfriend" of the latest victim a few hours ago."

"And?"

"And she was a mess. She was shaking so bad from withdrawal and she was mumbling her way through the entire conversation."

"What did she say?"

"She hadn't seen anything. Shocking, I know. She thinks she passed out around four, the time the victim died. So she must have been awake when he disappeared. She says she doesn't know when Tommy disappeared and was too high to remember anything more."

"That's vague."

"Yeah." I pursed my lips.

"What are you thinking?" I stopped.

"What makes you think I'm thinking anything?"

"Because I know you." I rolled my eyes.

"Since you've done a really good job at keeping me out of this case, but do you think I could meet her? Talk to her?" Edward bit his lip.

"Since she's not in custody anymore, I can't stop you from seeing her."

"Not in custody anymore?"

"No. Charges will be filed but for now, she's, somewhere. If you really want it, I could make a few calls, see where she's staying." I nodded with a smile.

"Thank you."

"But what makes you think you'll get anything out of her." I took a breath.

"People who are on drugs tend to see and hear much more than what you or even they think. Their minds just don't know how to process the information, mostly because the drugs attack the brain too aggressively. She needs to talk to someone who won't think she's crazy. You have no idea what that can do to someone." Edward nodded.

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am."

"Haha, funny," I smirked.

"What time is it?"

"Just after eight. You hungry?" I shrugged my shoulders and sat up. "You have to eat," he pointed out as I unzipped his jacket.

"Oh I plan to," I said with a smirk and yanked his head down to mine and we fell back hard on the couch.

**AN: Oy! I really am spoiling all of you with these fast updates. **

**I know it's mean to stop right before I lemon but there'll be some smut in the next chapter. **


	9. Character

_Character_

**BPOV **

My mouth opened in a silent scream. In retrospect, it was hard to imagine this amount of pleasure. It was the same with pain. The mind didn't make the connections to reality and somehow, when it happened again, it felt just as new.

I shifted my leg to the side of the couch, making Edward's thrusts even deeper. The point where I could still make sense of anything I was saying had passed and only unintelligible noises game out of my mouth now. I shifted my hips and whimpers flew out like prayers.

But then, when I was so close – and I knew Edward was too – a cell phone vibrated and for a moment, Edward's movements slowed down.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I moaned. The ringing stopped and Edward kept going. I bit my lip, almost hard enough to draw some blood. But then a knock on the door made the both of us freeze our movements.

For about ten second, there were no sounds in the apartment. Both Edward and I had stopped breathing, as if the person on the other side of the door would just go away.

"Masen!" Edward and I looked at each other with horrified eyes. "I know you're I there!"

No… this cannot be happening!

In a matter of a nanosecond, Edward was off me and I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around myself. I scrambled the floor for my clothes while Edward did the same and got dressed. I ran to the bedroom and closed the door behind me, at the same time, the front door opened.

"What took you so long?" I heard my father ask. I leaned my head against the door and closed my eyes, trying to calm my raising heart.

"Sorry. I, uhm… was taking a nap." He needed to get better at lying. I started pulling on my clothes while still listening in on their conversation.

"Aha. I called your phone but you didn't answer."

Sorry," was all Edward said.

"There's been another killing." I stopped pulling on my shirt and crept closer to the door, putting my ear against the cold wood.

"College student this time. Annie Lloyd, twenty-one years old. Found in her room by her housemate."

"Why did they call us?"

"Because her chest was littered with bloody markings. Markings that made a word. Bleeder."

Bleeder? The word made no sense at the time except for an episode of Criminal Minds I saw a few days ago. A masochist talked about women as bleeders, mentioning towards menstruation. That women were less worthy than men because we bleed.

"We really need to get going." Charlie sounded agitated. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

The front door slammed shut a few second later and I breathe out in relief. I yanked my shirt on and my mind ran free with this new information. All thoughts seemed so… out there but nothing else made sense.

I pulled my hair back from my face as I went to retrieve Edward laptop – with a frown, I might add. Edward was a Mac person. Something I could not understand. But since it was the only computer he had, it'd have to do. I warily pressed the power button and the machine boosted to life. No password was needed so it went directly to the main page.

My brows raised on their own as I searched for the internet page. After I pressed five other items, I finally found the right one. But in my defense, safari is not a suitable name for an internet searcher. Clicking my way to Google, I typed in three words; recent Chicago homicides. A list of various choices littered the screen.

Not that much had been written about the murders. Actually, very little. They must have a close lid on everything.

Somehow, this unsettled me. Many killers took pride in their work. They liked the attention. Some have killed more people because of the lack of attention. My heart started pounding. This was not good. And they had found a new victim tonight. The killer's getting fast. Maybe this will make him careless. Or her.

I Googled some more and tried to connect the missing dots. The puzzle needed to be put together… and fast.

----------------

**EPOV **

I sighed as I looked at our newest victim. Annie Lloyd laid on the floor of her room, back to the carped and both arms stretched out, hands by her head.

"She died around three hours ago. The cause is massive hemorrhaging but I think that is pretty obvious," Avery said to Charlie and I. Yeah, it was obvious. Lying on the floor in her own blood, it looked like Annie had cut her own wrists in suicide.

But the words written across her open torso made it very obvious it was not by Annie's own choice.

_Bleeder_.

"The victim has many small marks on her wrists, suggesting she used to cut herself."

"Used to?" I asked.

"Yeah. The ones I can see beyond the blood have healed and faded to blend in with the skin tone."

"How old would you say they are?"

"I couldn't say. But a cut wrist takes around a month to heal, for the scars to be almost invisible against the skin. None of this poor girl's scars are new. I'd say she's been a cutter for years. Some of these scars have been reopened several times."

I walked away from them, looking around the room. When I had walked in here not fifteen minutes ago, I wouldn't have thought this was the kind of girl to cut her wrists. The walls of her bedroom were a mild yellow. The floor a hardwood brown and almost all furniture's were in some shade of white.

I picked at various things, a few necklaces strewn around the dressed, stacked notebooks on the desk and tacky romance novels placed in chronological order above on a small white shelf. The computer was already gone, getting analyzed by technicians as we walked and talked.

I grabbed a scrapbook, filled with pictures from various locations. In almost all, which involved the victim, she was smiling with her friends. One visualized the coliseum in the background. Another was of Big Ben. The giant archway which separated West from East Germany. The Louvre. Leaning tower of Pisa. There were so many of them.

"She liked to travel," I commented in a mutter.

"And shop," Charlie said as he opened the closet doors.

"This isn't right."

"You just figured that out?"

"No. I mean, this is not the typical behavior for a cutter. Aren't they all depressed?"

"Not always," Avery said. I turned and raised an eyebrow. "Some have said that their cutting had absolutely nothing to do with how depressed they were or are."

"Then what was it about?"

"Some liked the physical pain. Some did it for attention, making people thing they're suicidal."

I nodded and picked up another book on the desk. A day planner. I flipped through the latest days and noticed that every Tuesday, at five p.m. the same name kept reappearing; Martin Sanders.

"Swan, look at this." I held up three different weeks.

"Huh," was all he hummed.

"It's gotta be a therapist."

"Why wouldn't she just write that?"

"Maybe she was embarrassed?" Charlie shrugged, not believing it. I rolled my eyes.

"I don't understand any of it," Charlie commented.

"Then maybe it's good to get some help." Charlie looked at me, the veins in his neck popping out.

"We are not giving this case to a bunch of carnival gypsies who don't know shit about real life!" I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"I'm heading back to the office." Charlie grumbled something I didn't hear.

Before leaving the room, I got the Canon camera with all the pictures of the room. I didn't have time to wait for it to come to the office.

Driving on the interstate, I thought about calling Bella. But I knew her well enough to know when not to push her too far. But at the same time, I needed her. Charlie was in denial and I knew shit about psychology and human behavior. I needed help and so far, everything Bella had told me made every sense in the world.

Getting out of my car, I pressed in the familiar phone number and waited. Five rings went by until a breathless voice answered, annoyed.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's me."

"Oh," her tone lessened in annoyance.

"I know it's late but do you think you could come down to the office? I don't care anymore; I want to catch this asshole and Charlie's in denial about everything. We're not making any progress and people are dying." I heard her sigh.

"That was a lot in one breath of air… I don't know Edward. Isn't Charlie there? I can't just come walking in and start looking at case files. I doubt he'll ignore it."

"He's not here right now and if it comes to it, I'll lock you in my office all night."

"Well I do like the sound of that. Fine. Since you asked so nicely. Do you want me to bring the case files?"

"No, that's okay. I have copies here. Be careful."

"I always am." She hung up and I listened at the deafening tone for a second before hanging up myself.

I took out the memory card from the camera and plopped it into the computer. It took a few moments but I finally saw all the images from the crime scene. I pressed print and sifted through most of them before getting up to get the printed results.

The floor was mostly deserted. I counted two working agents – sitting hunched over their keyboards, typing furiously – and a new janitor. Though I thought that word was too odd. She seemed far too young to be a janitor. But she gave me a smile as I walked by and I reciprocated. The machine was still printing, so I leaned against the opposite wall and waited.

Once the papers were done, I stacked them together and got back out. The janitor was gone and so was one of the agent's I just saw sitting by his desk. The other one was fast asleep. I laughed quietly and got up behind him. I pushed lightly on his shoulder and he awoke with a jolt.

"What? What?"

"Maybe you should get home," I advised.

"But I need to-" he started but he could barely see straight anymore. Any longer sitting by that computer and he'd drive his car off the road.

"You can't do anymore tonight. Not by falling asleep at your desk." He reluctantly agreed and after I saw him get into the elevator, the entire floor was deserted. It was eerie. I stopped in my tracks I got to my office door. The door stood ajar, but before I completely overreacted, I pushed it open and there was Bella. Sitting on the floor with papers all around her.

"You know I have chairs and a desk, right?" She didn't look up.

"Too messy," she said and leaned back against the couch. Now she looked at me.

"Hey." Her voice was quiet, pensive.

"Hey yourself," I said back and sat down next to her. I handed her the stack of picture.

"I have something for you." Bella took them and flipped through them fast.

"Are these just from the last crime scene?" She sounded tired.

"Afraid so." She sighed and started looking one after one. I got up from the floor and sat down by my desk. I had a report to write.

----------------

**BPOV **

There were like five hundred pictures in this bunch! As soon as I saw them, I groaned on the inside. But fuck, I was tired and, thanks to my father's interruption, horny as hell and neither desire was going to get any attention tonight – or morning, rather.

My eyes started to burn and I wished I had brought some eye drops. Sifting through a bunch of papers didn't seem as tempting now as it did an hour ago. Although this wasn't the way I would have liked to spend my evening, I did, somewhere, find this ultimately fascinating. I was never good with puzzles. Truth be told, they frustrated me but the end result always felt so good that the middle was worth it, most of the times.

After looking through all the photos, and deciding that the killer was picking the victims randomly through the phonebook, I grabbed one of the three evidence boxes. My hand first touched a black pleader day planner in a sealed plastic bag.

"Can I take this out or will that ruin fingerprints or something?" I asked and holding up the clear plastic bag. Edward looked up for a second.

"Yeah. Just use gloves." He threw a pair of white latex gloves at me. I caught them and frowned as I had some trouble putting them on.

I sifted through the days, reading various notes and dates with friends and family. This didn't fit the profile of a cutter. This girl seemed to… bright. Not just smart but genially enjoying life. Of course it could be just a façade. Maybe she was lying to herself. When I thought nothing could be of use, something caught my eyes.

Every Tuesday since two weeks back, the same name kept reappearing. Martin Sanders. It wasn't just the name every Tuesday but I think I know that name.

"Martin Sanders," I whispered to myself. I knew I had heard that name before. But I couldn't place it. I finally groaned in frustration.

"Who's Martin Sanders?" I asked loudly. Edward typed a few more words before answering.

"No idea. But we think he's a psychiatrist." That's when it hit me. Martin Sanders. Last semester, my class had a PhD psychologist come and give a lecture on human behavior.

"You're right," I said, a little dazed. That grabbed Edward's entire attention.

"What?"

"He is a psychologist. I knew I recognized the name. He gave a lecture in my behavior psychology class last semester." Edward sat still and quiet for five seconds before talking.

"Please tell me you know where he works?"

"No." His face slumped. "But he does have a website. The address is there." And now it lit back up. Apparently, the report was way forgotten now. Edward typed fast on the keyboards.

"I've found him," he announced not two minutes later. I got up from the floor and walked around his desk.

"That's barely twenty minutes from here," Edward noted quietly.

"It's not like you can go now. It's 11:45. He won't be in his office now."

"No but I'm very sure he'll be home." I grabbed the note Edward held up to me. It held a name and two addresses.

"How did you get this?" I asked. The webpage didn't give a home address.

"Bella. I'm an FBI agent. Don't insult me." I huffed and cracked my neck, along with my knuckles.

"So you're just going to bang on his door in the middle of the night?"

"No. You're going with me."

----------------

I fell asleep in the car, my forehead getting cold from the window. I woke up when the car came to a halt. We were parked in front a very nice and expensive-looking apartment complex.

I got out of the car, shivering as the cold air hit me. Edward rung for the intercom once but after minutes of standing in the cold, he held it on until a groggy voice answered.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Sanders?" Edward said loudly. "My name is Edward Masen. I'm with the FBI. Could you buzz me in?"

"Whaa- what's going on? It's almost 12:30 in the morning. What the hell is this? Who are you?"

"I'm with the FBI. I need you to buzz me in." Edward tone got sharper. I could hear Mr. Sanders was still too tired to make much sense out of this but he did buzz us in. We climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. I had always been a bit of a claustrophobe and the darkness wasn't helping matters. Besides, we were only going to the fourth floor.

"Mr. Sanders?" Edward knocked lightly on the door, trying not to awake any other tenants.

"Who is it?" A tired voice asked.

"I told you. I'm Edward Masen with the FBI. Would you let me in?"

A silent moment.

"Can I see some identification?" Edward sighed but reached for his badge and held it up for the peephole.

"And yours," he said pointedly at me.

"I'm not FBI," I said.

"Then who are you?"

"Mr. Sanders. Can we talk inside?"

Two locks and chain rattled before the door slowly opened. A small middle-aged man with a bald patch atop of his head stood in front of us, wearing a dark red silk robe.

"Yes?"

"May we come in?" Edward asked, sounding annoyed now.

Sanders looked at both of us with suspicious eyes.

"No. Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Annie Lloyd is dead," I said. Edward shot me an angry look but I wanted some form of sleep tonight.

Martin Sanders eye grew wide and he looked away.

"Come in," he said in a monotone voice. Edward and I stepped inside and I closed the door behind us.

"Did she do it?" Sanders asked.

"Did she what?" Edward sounded confused.

"Killed herself?"

"Why would you say that?" I asked before Edward could.

"Ms Lloyd came to be about three months ago. She said she wanted to start therapy. Of course I agreed. I didn't have any free time until around two months ago and since then we've met once a week-"

"Tuesdays. Yeah, we know. What was the nature off Ms Lloyd's problems?" Edward sounded annoyed.

"That's confidential," Sanders explained, looking superior. I rolled my eyes.

"Look. If you won't cooperate we will come back with a search warrant. Look through all your notes and records, and then you'll be handled as a suspect. It's easier and will go so much faster if you just tell us right now." Sanders looked at Edward with shocked eyes.

"I'm pretty sure he's serious," I said slowly. Sanders sat down in his living room, his face expressionless. Edward sat down as well but I remained standing, walking slowly around the room as Edward asked questions I never paid attention to.

Martin Sanders was living alone. That much was cleared. No "intimate" photos of a woman or man could be seen so he's never been married. He had a cleaning lady who came here at least twice a week. The apartment smelled faintly of lemon. My own nose scrunched at the odor. I never liked lemon.

I observed the fireplace. I saw no pictures, indicating he's an only child and that his parents are dead. Either that or this man is deeply antisocial who hates his family and have slight psychopathic tendencies. I went with the first conclusion.

Sanders didn't have any plats either. He couldn't have time to take care of them as he was a workaholic who took much greater pleasure in his job that he should. Hi bookshelves contained various toys. Stuffed animals and figurines.

"Are these from patience's?" I asked, pointing towards the toys, when they stopped talking. Both Sander and Edward looked at me.

"Uhm yes. I've treated kids before."

"Why did you stop?"

"I didn't, really. Kids don't want to speak to someone close to their parents' age." I nodded.

"Are we done-" a loud shrilling sound flew across the wide space.

"What the hell is this?" Sanders exclaimed as he got up and pressed a button next to the wall.

"Yes?"

"This is FBI agent Charlie Swan. May I speak with you Mr. Sanders?" My blood turned to ice and I couldn't move. Edward was wearing a similar expression. Oh no. This can't be happening!

"How many of you are coming tonight?" Sanders asked into the microphone.

"What do you mean Mr. Sanders?"

"Well, I've already one Agent Masen here and some woman who I don't know the name of."

"Could you let me in Mr. Sanders?" Charlie's tone was way too calm. My palms started to sweat. I saw Sanders press another button and my heart started to thump erratically. The bald man turned around and saw our frightened expressions.

"That was an FBI agent, was it not?" Edward nodded but I spoke.

"Yeah. That's my dad." I turned towards Edward.

"What the hell are we going to do?" I whispered frantically.

Edward didn't say anything but stood as we both heard the elevator ding in the hallway outside the front door. I remained frozen, my back to the front door.

It opened. Edward walked towards it.

"Masen. What are you doing here?"

"Same reason you-"

"Who is that?" He didn't yell but it was nothing better. I winced and slowly turned around. My father's eye went as wide as saucers. I held up a hand in a slight wave, biting my lip.

"Hi dad."

* * *

**AN: Sort of a cliffhanger but a story is so much better with them. This is a little shorter chapter than the others but I hope that's okay. It's still 10 pages… **

**I was going to write another little piece of the killers mind but honestly, I had absolutely no words on this death. I mean, I knew what happened, as do all of you, but I had no idea on how to express it… that was confusing… oh well! **


	10. End of normal

_End of normal _

I let my hand fall down, biting even harder on my lip. My father said nothing. He just kept staring at me, but I refused to hold his gaze. It was as if he could see right through me, knowing absolutely everything. Why I was here, with Edward. Why Edward asked for my advice. Why Edward would even think to ask me for an advice.

I knew there was a very slim chance that I would be able to talk my way out of this one. My exceptional lying skills may be good but I doubted Charlie could be so blind and forget seeing me in the apartment as soon as we left. This would be such a good time to read minds, get one small whiff of how much Charlie hunched. But his expression remained shocked and yet composed.

Sanders kept looking between my father and I, giving himself whiplash with the fierceness of his head turns. I could only hope that Edward wasn't looking even a fraction of guilty. He'd ruin everything.

"What are you doing here Bella?" I opened my mouth but closed it again. I didn't know how to explain it. I couldn't.

"She's here because I asked her to come." I shot Edward a murderous glare but he completely ignored me.

"Can I talk to the both of you outside?" Charlie's voice was way too calm.

We went outside, asking Sanders to stay inside. This was going to be a short conversation.

"Why the fuck did you ask my daughter to come with you to question a suspect?" Edward took a deep breath.

"First off, he's not a suspect. He's a therapist. Secondly, I asked her to come because you have completely lost your mind. You are so deep in denial that we can solve this case on our own when truth is, our biggest leads so far have come from Bella."

_Dude! What the fuck! _

I rubbed my face. This was not happening. I'm having a very bad dream and am about to wake up any second now.

"I've lost my mind?!" Great, now he's yelling. "You have involved my daughter in an ongoing murder investigation. She is just a little girl. She shouldn't be allowed to hear even half of what we've seen so far."

"Hey!" I yelled at the insult.

"Don't you yell at me missy." Missy? Is he fucking serious?

"How fucking dare you call me little girl?! I'm a grown woman, completely capable of making my own decisions. And for the record, everything I've seen from the pictures and read in the files doesn't even begin to compare to what I've lived through!" Charlie looked at me with shocked eyes but with a firm expression.

"Which is exactly why I don't want you mixed into all of this. I can't protect you if you don't let me!"

"I don't want you to protect me, dammit!" I shut up, knowing we would wake up the other tenants if we continued this was.

"Whatever," I said, fuming. "We've already interrogated him but go ahead and ask whatever you want." I turned towards Edward. "Can you take me home?" Edward simply nodded and I turned to leave because Charlie could say anything else.

I got out before Edward and waited quietly by the car as he slowly made his way towards me. But he didn't unlock the doors. Instead he came to my side and stood right in front of me.

"That went well." I didn't laugh. I could only stare.

"Only because he didn't get to ask _the_ question." I leaned back against the cold metal holding a hand over my eyes.

"It'll be-"

"Don't say fine," I snapped. I removed my hand and shook my head.

"Unlock the car, Edward." He did as I asked and got in himself, driving off down the empty road.

"Are you going to talk to me?" Edward asked after a number of odd minutes.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked honestly.

"I don't know. Anything?"

"Okay. How about… Hey Edward, you know what would be a great idea? If I went with you to ask a therapist about one of his deceased patients and then have my father completely ambush us there… together… his mind drawing any and all kinds of conclusions as to why I would be there with you when we aren't even supposed to know each other well enough to be on first name bases."

"You don't get to be pissed at me! You wanted to come as much as I wanted you to."

"What the fuck are we going to do?" I mumbled into my hands.

"You're acting like it's the end of the world if he found out about us."

"Because it is!" I shut my mouth. Edward stared straight ahead. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

"Then how was it supposed to come out?" He didn't yell but I still flinched at the venom in his voice.

"Do you want Charlie to find out about us?"

"It would be easier-"

"Easier? The fuck it would! He'd fucking blow a fuse!"

"Calm down Bella."

"Don't tell me to calm down! Do you think he's going to just ignore what he saw tonight? He'll ask questions, a lot of them. I can't deal with this right now." Edward drove quietly, not talking to me anymore. I felt like an asshole.

The car stopped on the dark road, one block away from my house. It was eerie how quiet the night was. And calm. The wind barely blew. I turned towards him.

"I'm so-"

"Whatever Bella. Just get out and we'll talk tomorrow." His words hurt me and I tried not to winch in front of him. I don't think I did such a good job. I opened the car door and got out, shutting it behind me without another word. He couldn't have driven of any faster and I was left at the side, watching in drove away from the small neighborhood.

I started walking, shivering in the cold February morning. The door was unlocked, surprisingly. I gently nudged it open and locked it behind me. The lights were on dimmer, illuminating the living room just barely. Both Alice and Angela were sitting by the couch; Alice had the remote in her hand, flipping through every channel too fast to know what was on.

"Hey guys," I said softly. They both jumper out of their seats and ran towards me, hugging me close.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Alice yelled as she released me.

"I was just-"

"It doesn't matter," Angela interjected. "It's past one and we could all use some sleep." Alice was still watching me and I knew she wanted to know where I've been but that made me remember that we had a fight and even though I knew she had been worried, I was still a little pissed at her.

"Yeah. I'm exhausted and I have school in a few hours. I'm sorry I worried you." Alice still looked at me suspiciously but her face softened a little.

"We're just glad you're okay. You could have called."

"Sorry," I said again.

I changed quickly and brushed my teeth at ultra speed. But when I sat down, underneath my covers, I wasn't at all tired. I lay down and closed my eyes, willing my mind to go blank. But, alas, nothing of the sort happened.

I tossed and turned most of the night. By the time I actually got some rest, it was three in the morning and right before I fell asleep I thought how silly it was when I had to be up in three hours.

_I knocked softly on the door but got no answer. I pushed the door open and found the office to be empty. I sighed and shook my head. _

_He forgot. _

_Typical. _

_My father may be a good FBI agent but you can't truth him for shit. I sat down at the blue old tacky couch at the corner and decided to wait. After a few minutes I got bored and started going thru old case files. They really should have locks on these drawers. _

"_What are you doing?" The voice startled me and I dropped the file as I whirled around. Papers flew all over the floor. My heart pounded even harder as I saw who it was. _

_Edward Cullen. _

"_Uh… I was just… waiting for Charlie and got… bored." I almost hit myself in the head. What fucking explanation is that? Gorgeous by the door smirked and got inside. I dropped to my knees and started gathering the papers together. Edward came over and helped me. _

"_So why are you waiting for Charlie?" I sensed he was only asking to make small talk and keep away the awkward silence we knew was brooding. _

"_We were supposed to be having lunch but it doesn't look that way anymore. So now I'm just waiting to yell at him." I tried to put the file back in its right place but Edward chuckled and took the file from me, accidentally touching my hand. _

_Wow. _

_The second our hands touched a jolt shot through me, making me let go of the file as if it had burned me. Edward; either hadn't felt anything or played ignorant. He put the file in it's right place and shut the drawer. _

"_Hi sweetheart," Charlie announced, stepping into his office. "What brings you here?2 I scowled. _

"_You really don't know?" Charlie looked confused. _

"_I'm sorry. I don't." _

"_That's just great! You know what; when you have time to have me in your life, call me. Otherwise, stay away!" I stormed out, grabbing my bag from the couch. I wasn't that pissed. But Charlie did this too many times and it was getting old. Why couldn't he just have his phone remind him? That's what mine does a day before someone's birthday. _

BEEP!

I shot up, groaning and slammed my hand down on the alarm clock.

"Shit!" I whispered in a groggy voice. My dreams didn't make any sense anymore.

When I was done in the bathroom, I dragged my feet behind me to my closet and grabbed the first pairs of jeans I saw. I didn't care. I'm not sure why but I was actually feeling down today.

I moved through a zombie-like state. I barely registered slurping down my yoghurt and I had to check the door after getting down from the porch, seeing if I actually locking it. Where did this paranoia come from?

I couldn't concentrate at all through class. I kept going out of focus and for once my professor asked me questions but unfortunately for me, I had no answers. Okay, that's not true. I did ask; huh? and what? The responses of a woman with an IQ of 152.

The house was quiet after school. I had to work and was just going to grab some dinner before leaving again. I checked the phone but there were no missing messages. Not that I expected him to call at the home line. But I had to check. I also checked my cell for the hundredth time that hour but still no text or voicemails or even emails. I felt a frown plant itself onto my face.

**---------------- **

"Heey. How ya doin'?" Lauren asked with her mouth full of a subway sandwich. I sighed as I plopped down opposite her, leaning my head into my hands.

"I feel like shit," I said truthfully.

"Why? What's wrong?" I shook my head.

"I had a huge fight with one of my roommates. She's just too nosy for her own good."

"I know the feeling."

"Friend?"

"My mother actually." Lauren rolled her eyes. "She keeps asking when I'm gonna get married and give her grandchildren. If she wants a kid running around her house she can adopt." As soon as we got to the conversations about mothers, I tried to change the subject discretely.

"So who's working tonight?" The final hours before closing, only three worked, normally. If there's a new one, he or she would have to be the fourth but we hadn't had a new coworker in a while. It was kind of nice.

"Just you me and the oh-so-lovely Mike."

"I heard that!" We both chuckled at our manager's fake upset voice.

----------------

"How are you doing Bella, seriously? You look… I don't know… down." I shrugged as I handed her another larger-than-life stuffed Tiger on the top shelf. The store was dead. We closed not ten minutes ago and some kids had gotten a little too excited at the toy section. It was like a warzone of bears and Barbie dolls.

"I'm fine. Really. It's just the fight with my roommate. We've been friends since forever and we never fight so…" I trailed off and I held the latter as Lauren climbed down.

"You know what? You should come out tonight. I was gonna go out with some friends. There's this great band playing."

"Oh... uhm… Lauren, I don't know."

"Come on. What else are you going to do? Go home and avoid your roommate? It'll be fun." I bit my lip. When I opened my mouth, the phone rang and I sighed. I glanced at the display, stiffening a bit at the sight.

"Just give me a sec. I really have to take this." Lauren nodded and hunched down to gather some decapitated corpses, trying to force the heads back on the dolls. The sight would have been pretty amusing if I hadn't just gotten that call.

"Hey," I greeted quietly.

"_Hi,"_ Edward said back curtly. His tone made me wince. But come on! He can't be that upset about what I said!

"How'd it go with the case? You didn't lose it, did you?"

"_No we still have it. But only barely." I bit my lip again. _

"Has Charlie-"

"_He hasn't said or asked anything. But I need to talk to you." Something_ in his voice made my heart thump faster, more erratically.

"About what?" I tried to ask in an even voice.

"_About us. Or whatever we're called." _

"What do you mean?" Edward sighed.

"_It's not working, Bella."_ I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. _"Last night really made me see it. It was never going to work out. It was fun for a while but let's get back to reality, fun was all it was, right?"_ I swallowed, not trusting my voice yet.

"_I need to focus on this case right now and I can't have any distractions. You get that right?" _If I wasn't so close to sobbing, I probably would have heard the tone of his voice but at that moment, all I heard was that he didn't want me.

"Yeah. Sure I get it," I said with a hollow and angry voice. "Nice knowing you." Then I hung up and turned off my phone. I took a deep breath and rubbed my face, composing myself. I couldn't let this break me. I don't break. Sure I felt sad now but it would be fine tomorrow. I'd make it so.

I went back to the toy section where Lauren was just finishing cleaning up. I put a fake smile on my face.

"So where are we going?"

----------------

I flipped my head back, feeling the liquid burn my throat. I didn't waste any time but went right on the other shot without blinking.

"Wow. You're almost a better drinker than I am," Lauren noted next to me. I chuckled humorlessly and downed more vodka.

"I've had a lot of practice," I explained and leaned against the bar, feeling my feet about to give out on me. I got to change clothes at Lauren's. While I can admit her clothes fit me perfectly, the heels were killing my feet. It was like I could feel the start to bleed. Just another reason to drink.

"So tell me about it." I raised my brows.

"About my drinking habits?"

"No," she laughed. "About you reason for drinking." I hesitated but then shook my head.

"Fine. I'm gonna go get a close spot. You coming?"

"You go ahead. I'm gonna get drunk first." Lauren left and I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"Rough day?" I looked up and noticed the bartended – who's incredibly cute, by the way – peering down at me.

"You could say that," I mumbled.

"Want to talk about it?" I looked up with an amused expression. Why was everyone trying to get me to talk about my issues?

"I wouldn't want to push my problems at you."

"Believe me. I've heard it all." I thought about it for a moment.

"Why are guys such assholes?"

"It's in our DNA." I chuckled.

"Then tell me why a guy – who has always made it clear that he wanted more than what a girl could give at the moment – suddenly decide it was all just fun and not worth it anymore?" My voice turned shallow and I fingered my empty glass.

"I may not have a straight answer but he is an ass for leaving you."

"I am… difficult. I don't do relationships. I can't – even now – call in my boyfriends or ex-boyfriend."

"He's still an ass. Or he got pressured. Either way he's-"

"Wait. What?" My eyes widened.

"What? That he's an ass?"

"No. After that. What did you say?"

"That he got pressured?" I nodded.

"Well. I once dated a girl. Her family was real strict, really religious. Not the girl but her parents. Either way, the day she had me over to meet her folks, her dad took me to the side and pretty much told me I could never be good enough for his daughter." I felt my breathing accelerate.

No…

That's ridiculous.

It's not possible.

He couldn't have.

He wouldn't, would he?

As soon as the possibility entered my brain, I began to connect the dots.

"Son of a bitch…" I whispered.

"Excuse me?" I looked up at the bartender.

"Sorry. I didn't mean you. I need another drink."

"What would you like?"

"Doesn't matter."

---------------

I stumbled while walking up the steps to the porch, laughing like there was no tomorrow. I turned with a big smile and waved at the cabbie as he drove off. Alice car wasn't seen and so I knew I could walk in without getting a third degree.

I pushed the door open after a few failed attempts at getting the key to fit. I had to squint my eyes to see it was actually my locker key I was trying to jam in there. I started laughing and could barely keep myself up.

"Hello!" I yelled as I closed the door behind me. I chuckled as I stumbled over my own feet.

"Angela?!"

There was no reply. I threw my coat to the counter but missed by a few feet. I lost my footing as I tried to walk and remove my heels simultaneously. I sighed as they were both finally off and I gazed around in the dark and very silent house.

Smiling, I looked up the stairs and started to move.

"Ang? Angieroonie?" I chuckled more while slowly and carefully walked up the stairs. I was shitfaced but not a complete idiot. There was still no reply. I frowned.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked in a slurred voice, growing sad. Alcohol did weird things to me. I was getting to the top of the stairs, feeling a little lightheaded. I needed to run some more. My condition wasn't better than a person weighting in at 300 pounds.

"Angie, please don't be mad at me. I- fuck!" As I got to the top of the stairs I slipped on something sharp on the floor. I slammed into the wall but managed to cushion my fall with both my hands. I could feel something cut my foot. I grabbed it and had a look. Dark red fluid dropped from the wound. I reached out and got a hold of the very large piece and dragged it out, gasping at the pain.

I froze as I saw the broken glass strewn around the hallway floor. Pictures from the walls lay on the floor in awkward positions. My breathing was becoming shallower. Had we been broken into? I stepped forward, being careful to not walk on any more glass.

I went down the hall towards Angela's bedroom.

"Angela?" I whispered softly. I opened the door and it creaked. There was no one in there. The bed was made and everything looked freakishly tidy. As I was ready to leave, something caught my eyes. Her cell phone, along with her keys and wallet.

I was getting really scared now, all trace of drunkenness gone. I was by the window, watching the darkness over the city. The dark had always scared me. I turned on the light, looking around the room again. I sighed, getting paranoid.

"Mmm..." My head whipped around. The quiet moan of pain came from the bathroom. I rushed in without a second thought and the sight nearly knocked me over. The entire room was filled with blood. The floor covered in floods and the walls were smeared and splattered.

On the floor, in a bloody mess, lay Angela.

* * *

**AN: I literally can't wait for the response on this one. **


	11. Unknown

_Unknown_

I was fuming. I mean; what the fuck is this?!

I don't know how long I paced, trying to make some kind of sense of what just happened. I was in deep shit and not because of the obvious little problem on the floor but because it didn't work as I had planned. It sounded like such a good idea this morning. But since impulse had proven to work well in the past, it shouldn't have been any different tonight. But then... _this_ happened.

I will admitt that in a moment of weakness, I had doubted myself. I wouldn't do that again.

Oh well, it's nothing that cannot be fixed. Things have been worse than this. I mean, the last one had been a challenge. Taken me completely by suprise.

A loud laugh made me freeze for one second. I slowly turned towards the door with a smirk plastered on my face.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought…

* * *

**AN: Don't worry, this isn't everything and I will put up the next chapter tomorrow... **


	12. Reasons

_Reasons _

"Do you know why you're here?"

I heard the question but couldn't answer it. I've never felt that kind of chock before in my entire life. Those ten minutes are forever scarred into my memory tissue.

"_Oh my god," I whispered. For a minute, I just stood there, frozen. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. Finally, my brain caught up with reality and my feet moved. I rushed over and dropped down next to Angela, not sure what I should do. I put a hand on her shoulder. _

"_Angela?" Her head moved and she let out another moan of pain. I flapped my hands around, trying to locate my phone but it wasn't on me. I scrambled to my feet and barged into my room. The scene made me freeze yet again. My room was completely smashed. The bed had been literally ripped apart. Feathers and cotton lay strewn all around, making it look like snow in the floor. _

_My laptop was gone and so were all the case files that had lain beside the computer. But I couldn't begin to worry about that just now. I got to my bedside table and yanked the phone to me. There was no dial tone. That's when I saw the cord was cut. And that's when the first round of panic hit. _

_I then remembered seeing Angela's phone. I ran into her room, slipping on the liquid covered floor. Once at her desk, I saw her phone was gone. _

_But that couldn't be. _

_I just saw it! _

_I started to hyperventilate and sob. _

_What the fuck is going on?! _

_I ran back downstairs, feeling the glass cut my feet once more but this time I didn't care. I got the cordless from the kitchen and breathed out the hugest breath of relief as I heard the dial tone. I called 911 as I ran back upstairs and into the bathroom, flopping back down next to Angela. _

"_911. What's your emergency?" _

"_I need an ambulance! My friend… she's- she's bleeding. I don't know-" _

"_Ma'am. I need you to remain calm. Where is your friend right now?" _

"_She's right next to me." _

"_Is she breathing?" _

"_I- I think so. Please hurry. She's lost a lot of blood." I quickly gave them the address and then threw the phone behind me. I grabbed at some towels, trying to put some pressure on the wound but there were so much blood. I didn't know where it began. _

"_Angela? Please, talk to me." She didn't respond. I started touching her, trying to locate the wound or wounds when I felt her back, I found something else. My hand came in contact with something hard and cold. I pulled it out and stared at a long knife. Of course I recognized it; it was from our kitchen. _

_There was banging on the door but I couldn't respond. Two EMTs rushed into the bathroom. One got down and checked on Angela, while the other dragged me out of there. He was talking to me but I couldn't focus on the words. A ringing in my ears got softer and softer before it completely went away. _

"_Ma'am. I need you to drop the knife," he was speaking slowly, as if I was mentally handicapped. I looked down and saw that I was still clutching the knife in my hand. I dropped it as if it had burned me. _

_Then the police showed up and I was brought out of the house, all done in a daze. I couldn't answer any of their questions because I couldn't even focus long enough to hear any of them. _

_It wasn't until the EMTs came out of the house that I moved. The cop in front of me kept trying to push me down but I pushed him away. My eyes were fixed on the front door. A gurney came out of the door… with a black body bag. _

_I broke down. _

"Miss Swan." I whipped my head up, looking at the FBI agent sitting across me.

"What?" My voice was hoarse and empty.

"I asked you whether or not you know why you're here." I opened my mouth but closed it again, not knowing how to answer.

"You're here because of the death of Angela Weber." I winced, still not being able to process it.

"Where were you this evening, Miss Swan?"

"I-" I cleared my throat. "I was out with a friend."

"Lauren Mallory?" I nodded. "Where did you two go?" I tried to remember the name but I couldn't.

"I don't remember the name but it was bar."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"A lot?"

"I guess."

"And did you take anything? Drugs?" I shook my head.

"No."

"Are you sure?" If I hadn't still been in shock, I would have rolled my eyes.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"So you and a friend go out. You have a lot to drink. When you get home you find your roommate's slashed body in the bathroom." I winced again. What the fucking is this guy's problem?

"Can anyone verify you were at the bar?" I looked at him with surprised eyes.

"Are you serious? Lauren, of course." Did he graduate online or something?

"Anyone besides Miss Mallory?"

"There were hundreds of people there."

"How did you get home?"

"I got a cab."

"When?" I sighed.

"I don't know. Late."

"How late?"

"I said I don't know!" I looked away from him. There was a small moment of silence.

"Did you and Miss Weber get along?"

"What?" The question was so strange; I didn't know how to answer.

"Did you get along? Fight a lot? Get angry with each other?"

"No."

"Really? Seems odd that you never fight with your roommate."

"I fight with my roommate but not with Ang-" my throat closed up and I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Do you do that often? Get angry?"

"What?"

"Do you ever get angry enough to hurt someone?" My face froze in terror and surprise.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Did you kill Angela Weber?"

**EPOV **

This was really bad. I was watching from behind the mirror, trying desperately not to believe what the evidences were telling me. Bella seemed lost, like she wasn't entirely sure where she was. For a moment, I thought she was catatonic but she's not that kind of person. Especially not with what she's been through. This just shouldn't have happened.

"_Did you kill Angela Weber?" _

I stopped breathing. This was that moment. When asked a direct question, you could almost always see if the person was lying. Most laughed. Some cried. But Bella did neither. She looked like she didn't know what to say. The question itself must have been a shock.

"_No."_ Her voice cracked and it looked like she was about to cry. I've never seen Bella cry. I never even saw her flinch when looking at the crime scene photos.

"_You were found hovering over the victim with the murder weapon."_ I began to feel pissed off towards agent Johnson.

"_I found it on the floor." _

"_You found it on the floor. That's very convenient."_ Johnson almost chuckled and I really would have liked to bash his head in at that moment. Bella said nothing.

"_Do you know anyone who would have wanted to hurt Miss Weber?"_ Bella shook her head.

"_Was she seeing anyone?" _

"_I'm not sure." _

"_How can you not be sure? She was your roommate."_ Bella shook her head.

"_Just because we were roommates, doesn't mean we know everything about each other. It's very easy to keep secrets." _

I sighed and left the room. This next part would not go over well. I knocked on the door once before opened it.

"What are you doing?" Johnson asked, somewhat mad. "This is a closed interrogation room."

Bella didn't look at me. I couldn't blame her. She must hate me. I hated myself.

"I'm going to take over."

"The hell you are!" Johnson was a newbie and even though he had no idea what he was getting himself into, this was, to him, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Being the naïve little shit that he is, he thought this would be a no brainer, that he would have Bella confess within five minutes. It's been over an hour.

"Actually, I am. You're not needed here anymore." My tone was cold and hard. Johnson hesitated but finally relented, getting up from the chair and walking out. I closed the door and locked it.

Bella didn't look at me as I sat down. That only left me feeling even more like an ass than I already was.

"How are you feeling?" Shit! Did I actually just ask that?

Bella snorted and looked at me for the first time.

"Did you seriously ask me that? And why the fuck would you care?" She looked away again and I managed not to winch at her tone.

"I'm sorry."

_You have no idea how sorry. _

"Whatever." It was completely silent for a few agonizing seconds before Bella spoke again. "When can I leave?" Her tone was empty of all emotions. I sighed.

"That's going to be hard."

"Why?" She asked, sounding completely confused.

"Bella. Do you know how serious this is?"

"That my roommate was just brutally murdered. Yeah, I think I get it's serious."

"I mean about you."

"What?"

"They EMTs found you, not only drenched in the victim's blood but you were holding the murder weapon, your prints were all over it."

"But… I- I didn't know. I just found it. I didn't know. Why would I call for an ambulance if I wanted it to happen?" There it was again, that sound as if she was about to cry.

"A prosecutor won't look at it like that. He'll try to convince the jury you called to throw the guilt off of you. If you hadn't touched the knife, you probably would have been able to walk out of here tonight."

"But… I'm not?" I rubbed my eyelids.

"No."

"Can't I pay bail or something?"

"Bella… there is no bail." Her face turned white and I saw her fingers start to shake.

"I didn't do it," she whispered, sinking down lower into the chair and stared down at the table.

"Of course you didn't," I said with confidence. "But a lot of people think you did. Either way, we won't know anything more until the autopsy is done and it's already started." Bella didn't respond.

"I'm sorry but you're going to have to stay here, at least for tonight." When I got up, she did too but it wasn't Bella. She was acting more like a zombie than anything. It scared the shirt out of me.

----------------

"Please tell me you have _something_," I pleaded, walking into the morgue. Avery hovered over a red stained corpse. It was like a train wreck. I wanted to look away but couldn't.

Avery looked up, as I got close to the table, with a tired expression.

"I got her not ten minutes ago, Masen. Give me a minute to even read the chart?" I sighed and leaned on another metal table as Avery read the thin paper chart and got on some latex gloves.

"You know I'll call as soon as I have anything?" I nodded.

"I know. But it doesn't matter if I leave. I'll just pace instead of work." He nodded and I paid close attention as Avery got something to clean the torso with.

"You think she did it?" Avery asked as he begun. I didn't hesitate.

"No."

"What makes you so sure?" I raked my brain for the easiest answer.

"Because it's… Bella. She couldn't do this. She's the smartest person I know and if she were to kill someone – something I don't think she has the emotional capability for – she wouldn't have been caught like this. She's too smart for that."

"Interesting assessment."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," the aging man said shrugging. I paced around the tables for a few minutes before sighing so loudly Avery seemed to have had enough.

"Oh for heaven's sake. I told you that- oh my." The change of tone caught my attention at once and I couldn't have run over fast enough to see something which made me unsure how to feel.

"Please tell me that's what I think it is," I whispered in hope. Avery dabbed the girl's midsection with a moist cloth. It materialized right in front of us and we both stood frozen and stared in wonder.

It was another word… but so unlike the others.

_Unnecessary _

----------------

**BPOV**

So this is what a police cell looks like. Not exactly what I pictured. Much colder. In both environment and interior.

I didn't move the entire time. I sat on a hard metal bench with my knees mashed up against my chest from the time Edward dropped me off to when I heard the angry voice of my father.

"What do you mean, impossible?! That's my daughter and I will see her now!" I could almost see the guards wanting to flinch at his tone but I was too used to it to even pretend to care.

"Agent Swan. Please calm down. The suspect will not be seeing any-"

"Suspect?! Oh you will not call my daughter a suspect. This whole thing is ridiculous."

"Agent Swan! That is enough! Unless you give me 100 %, solid, proof that Isabella Swan is innocent, she will not have any visitors and stay the remainder of the night in her cell. Is that understood?"

Before Charlie had a chance to answer him, the thrill of a phone echoed through the hollow rooms.

"Yes?" Answered the guard in a too even voice. Whoever spoke to him on the other line must have said something upsetting.

"What are you saying?"

"Are you positive?"

"I can't just – It will be your head that gets cut if this doesn't fall through." The slam of a receiver followed next.

"What was that about?" Charlie asked warily but still with a hard tone.

"It seems your daughter is cleared… so far."

"What are you talking about?"

"Some new evidence has shown up-"

"New evidence?! What the hell are you-… that son of-"

"Agent. This may were well be a temporary solution. Just get her out of here." Not ten seconds later, Charlie had the cell door opened and crushed me to him. I felt awkward and couldn't even hug him back. This was the first time I really thought about what I learned from the bartender.

I gently pushed Charlie off me and hugged my arms close to me, trying not to shiver even thought I was still in a significantly tiny dress.

"Come on," he said and lead me out. Once we started walking, I felt the cut in my foot start to burn and I winced with almost every step. Charlie's constantly ringing phone rang four times before he finally shut it off, not answering to any.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I'm taking you home." I could literally feel my face drain of all color. I stopped walking, not finding it in me to move on.

"Not to that house. You're old home," Charlie tried to reassure me but that didn't do much. It didn't matter; I couldn't stay at either place. Too much has happened and I felt so… alone. I always thought it funny whenever someone said they were lonely but never alone. I completely understood at that moment.

"I can't."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not going to that house."

"But you can't stay at yours. It's a crime scene."

"Like I would even if it wasn't," I mumbled. "I don't want to stay there by myself and you're not going to stay there so that doesn't leave much."

"I don't want you to be alone."

_Way too late for that… _

"Then I can stay here." Charlie looked at me with dubious eyes.

"It's not like I'm at flight risk or anything," I said in my defense.

"Of course I don't think that. Just stay in my office until I come back. I need to meet someone." His tone hardened even further and I almost rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, okay." We parted ways and I slowly made my way to the next floor. Once in the familiar office I felt exhausted and it seemed so funny I would be tired when something so awful had just happened. But my eyelids dropped and closed as soon as I sat down on the tacky couch. All I had to do was lay down and I was fast asleep.

_It's creepy how well I remember that day. I came home from school, like I did every other day of the week. But that day, I was late and had to rush home. The boy I had been "dating" for about a week – who was a good 4 years older than me – was waiting outside the school as the final bell rang. Like the hormonal driven teenager that I was, I went with him and well… I guess I don't need to explain what happened after he drove off. _

_Anyhow… like I said… I was rushing home. I was out of breath as I slammed the front door shut after me and hung up my jacket. _

"_Mom?!" I found it odd when I didn't get an answer. She didn't work and her car was in the driveway. _

_I drank some water in the kitchen and when I then walked into the living room, I noticed the dead silence that hung around the entire house. _

_I got upstairs but both bedrooms were empty. I dropped off my bag and got back downstairs. Walking by the basement door, a draft of cold air whipped past me. Goosebumps grew on my forearms and I opened the door a little wider. _

"_Mom?" I called softly down in the darkness. There was still no response. _

_I searched for the chain and the light came on above my head. I descended softly, cringing each time the steps creaked. _

_I was shivering by the time I got down and touched the floor. The light did little to illuminate the space. My feet felt like ice against the cement and I started feeling ridiculous as I just stood down there staring into the dark. _

_Shaking my head I was going to turn around and walk back up… but I only got halfway. When I backed up, my right foot stepped on something wet. I hopped over to the stairs and swore as I thought I'd somehow stepped in paint. _

_But it wasn't paint. I grabbed my foot and felt my heart thump unevenly as I saw just what I'd stepped in. _

_Blood. _

_I followed with my eyes to where I had stepped. It was like the floor was made of blood. I started feeling dizzy and I could feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead and back. It wasn't just blood on the floor. When my eyes had had enough time to focus, I saw a pale arm right in the middle of it. _

_A ringing started in my ears and my vision blackened a bit, I didn't know whether to scream or throw up. I stumbled against the stairs as I ran up as fast as I could. I slipped and collapsed at the top of the stairs, just outside the basement door. _

That's when I woke up.

* * *

**AN: Well I do love to shock. Before everyone jump down my throat, demanding how I could do this to Angela, let me just say that this has always been my intention. I wrote the last part of the previous chapter before I wrote the first one so it's always been that direction. I did say more people were going to die… **

**And I know it's very dramatic to have Bella go through this much in her life but sometimes drama is needed… **


	13. Knowledge is power

_Knowledge__ is power_

"You better have one god fucking reason for doing what you just did!"

"What? Get your daughter out of that cell? Do I really need a reason other than that?" I didn't look up as a very pissed off – not sure why that is – Charlie walked into the morgue. Avery was just finishing up cleaning the wounds and the word, unnecessary, was even clearer now.

"Don't get sarcastic with me!" Charlie shouted.

"I'm not. Shit Swan, will you stop yelling and look at this!" I pointed towards the body. Charlie grumbled something but got closer none the less.

"Unnecessary? What the fuck does that mean?!" I shrugged.

"I don't know but it's enough to convince the DA that this is the work of the killer we've been trying to catchy for almost a week." Charlie said nothing.

"Where is she now?" I asked, quieter. He looked outraged.

"Why the fuck do you need to know?!" I looked up with a look of annoyance. Before I had a chance to respond, Avery spoke up.

"Will the both of you stop it?! I need to start the autopsy. I've already have one unfinished that just got pushed back. I need to get some work done and I can't do that with the both of you fighting here!"

Charlie and I left but as soon as the doors closed we were at each other's throats.

"You will not come within five feet of my daughter," he seethed. "Don't think I don't know about how you talked to her in the interrogation room. What the fuck are you doing?! I told you to stay clear of her!" I stared at him with little patience.

"You done? Good. First off, you will not tell me what to do. This is my case too and until we close it, we – including your daughter – will have to see each other… often." Charlie looked almost purple. Before he had a chance to speak another word, the shrill of his cell phone broke the deafening silence.

"Swan," Charlie answered, his teeth gritted together.

"Who?"

"And what do you want?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Out of the question!"

"You will not. You have no grounds. No evidence!"

"Go ahead. But you won't succeed." Slamming the phone shut, Charlie stared at it like he could break it using the force.

"Who was that?" He only grunted in response, getting to the elevator and pressing the button.

"That was some lawyer. Michael Newton or something like that."

"What did he want?" The doors dinged and we stepped in. Charlie looked at me suspiciously, like he couldn't trust me.

"He wants to arrest Bella. Question her."

"What for?!" I yelled. "She was cleared. We just declared Angela Weber's murder as the work of the serial killer we've been trying to catch for a week. What the fuck's his problem?"

"He thinks they're the same."

"What?" I asked in a whisper. This could not be happening.

"He thinks Bella's the serial killer."

-------------

**BPOV **

My head was pounding when I awoke. I felt close to throwing up but managed to calm myself down by sitting on the cold floor, leaning my head against the couch, holding a hand over my mouth and keeping my mind blank. It felt like even speaking would break me in two.

I could still smell it. The blood. It smelled like rust and salt and death. I remembered everything. Things I would pay to have removed from my memory. But it wasn't just finding my mother – butchered like some piece of dead meat – but what came after.

As I had gotten to the top of the stairs, I was in hysterics. I started hyperventilating. I couldn't decide between crying and screaming so I did both. My legs were shaking so badly I could barely stand up. I fell over multiple times. I dropped the phone a lot because of my sweaty hands. I was going to call my father but when it got to it, his number was gone and it seemed like the only number I knew was 911.

I must have sounded like such a lunatic. I don't remember actually talking to anyone but I do remember screaming into the phone.

By the time the police and ambulance showed up, I was quiet, sitting in a fetal position in the living room. I stared at the floor, not knowing what else to do.

They asked me where my mother was. I didn't answer. They found her either way. The basement door was still slightly open and I had stepped in the blood, making markings on the floor.

They asked me who did it. I couldn't answer. How the fuck would I know? They also asked me if I was hurt. If I wasn't in such a state of shock, I would have snorted. How could they ask me that, right after finding my mother in that shape?

I didn't' move from the floor until Charlie showed up. He ran directly to me and hugged me close. It was awkward. Charlie was never a nurturing guy. But this time, there was something so different. He actually had tears in his eyes. I have never seen my father cry and that was the only time. Not even at the funeral did he shed a tear.

I stayed at a friend's house that night, waking up ever five minutes from a nightmare. But Alice was understanding by letting me have my time and made hollow promises like everything would be okay. I don't think I've ever thanked her for that. A little lie can go a long way.

They never caught the guy. But that wasn't the hard part. They concluded that my mother, right before she died, had sex. And my father was at work so there's only one other solution. Charlie, I think, didn't want to believe it. He came up with all kinds of explanations.

I was never mad at my mom. Not for cheating. Charlie was hardly around. I was hardly around. She must have gotten lonely. It's only human nature. If anything, I was mad at Charlie. He should have been home more. Should have paid more attention to my mom. Maybe then… No, I couldn't think like that.

A year later, I moved out, went to college, got a job and soon bought the house with Alice and Angela. And that's that.

Of course I spoke to my father. But he was still absent. He'd call a few times a week, making sure I was staying out of trouble. We'd have lunch some times a month but most of those times, he forgot and even though he is my father, I felt so forgotten and it made me feel guilty to be disappointed. He was an FBI agent. His work took a lot of time. But I still felt like if he wanted, really wanted to see me, he'd make time.

Then, when Edward came, I felt wanted and it didn't matter so much that Charlie was absent.

I was still lost in my own little world when I heard voices outside the office. Getting up on wobbly legs, I walked slowly to the door and strained my ears to hear ever word.

"Okay. You're here. Now start talking." My father voice was hard and cold.

"Agent Swan. I understand the circumstances you are in but that is not a good enough reason to be in such denial." This new voice, I did not recognize. But – and I'm not sure how I know this – he sounded like a lawyer.

"You have no idea what kind of circumstances I am in. And I am not in denial. My daughter has done nothing."

_What?!_

"So you say."

"So the evidence says." There was a heavy sigh.

"Agent Swan. Her fingerprints are on the murder weapon. There's no doubt about it. She killed Angela Weber, carved a work on her, just like she did to all other victims."

"No she didn't!"

"If we have her confess, we can make a deal," the lawyer said as if Charlie never spoke. "I'm willing to take the death penalty off the table. Come on now. That's a good deal in this case."

"There is no need to speak about this out here." I stilled as I heard Edward's voice. "Let's go into your office."

"No. Not in there," Charlie said, as if frightened. Before I had time to understand, the door opened quickly, slamming into my ear.

"Ow!" I held my ear, feeling it warm up.

"Isabella Swan I presume?" The lawyer was old, probably around 50. His hair was gray, at least what was left of it. He wore a light grey suit with a maroon tie. His shoes were charcoal black and looked very expensive. His eyes were glossier than others. I got the impression he was wearing tinted contacts. He reached out a hand but I didn't shake it. If what I heard was true, I'd like to punch him, not shake his wrinkly old hand.

His response to my lack of shake was a smug smirk. Like this was an angry protest reaction to him. In a way it was but not how I knew he thought. His hand withdrew and he sat down on one of the chairs at the desk. I noticed, as he sat down, that his socks were the similar color of his suit. And I also saw his shoes looked unusually tight. Was he wearing extra soles? What's he trying to accomplice? Look taller? He's already well over 6 feet. Is he really that overcompensating?

"So," the lawyer started. "Let's cut right to the chase. Would you two mind leaving us alone?" I looked at Charlie and Edward. Neither of them seemed willing to leave me alone. But I knew that if Charlie stayed in here, he'd interrupt the lawyer so much, they'd have to have security take him away from the room.

"Absolutely not!" What did I say? "She's not under arrest. You may not just talk to her like-"

"Dad. It's fine," I said calmly. The lawyer's smug smile widened. He probably thought he was going to get a confession out of me as soon as the doors closed. Wow, was he going to be surprised.

Charlie studied me for a moment before nodding.

"I'll be right outside." I nodded and Edward gave me one looked to which I returned. He left soon after. I closed the door and turned around. The lawyer looked like a fifteen year old who just lost his virginity. Don't people know it's not good to keep your emotions on your sleeve?

"I'm sorry," he didn't sound it. "But I don't think I introduced myself."

"You didn't."

"I'm Michael Newton." Newton? Seriously?

"Okay," I said warily. Hoping beyond hope that he wasn't related to Mike at work. That'd be… awkward.

"Please. Sit down. Let's talk." I sat down on the tacky old couch, not saying another word. He simply looked at me, waiting for me to speak. I said nothing but waited for him. Finally, he sighed.

"Let's not prolong this and more, shall we?" I remain quiet.

"We both know what happened tonight and it does nobody good to drag it out."

"Excuse me?" I wanted him to say it to my face.

"Come on Miss Swan. You got home from a party. You were drunk and didn't know what you were doing. You probably meant it as a joke but when you first stabbed you roommate," I flinched, "you wanted to do it again and again. I've seen this before. Sometime, people are like sharks. When they get that first smell of fresh blood, they want more of it." I almost vomited at the thought of smelling blood.

"Oh come on. Don't act like you didn't like it. We both know you did. Now I want to talk about a deal. If I get a confession, I can probably get the sentence down to 20 years with chance of parole in 10." I simply stared at him.

"That's the best offer you're gonna get. I suggest you take it."

"And why would I do that? And what exactly am I confessing to?" He laughed. The fucker actually laughed.

"To the murders, of course. What do you think?" I ignored his question.

"I've had one hell of a night. First I come home and find my roommate stabbed in our bathroom. Then I'm accused of murdering her. Then I'm accused of being the serial killer. Your plan might have worked but there's some faulty."

"And what's that?"

"I have an alibi." Newton froze, his eyes staring at me.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I have an alibi."

"You don't have an alibi."

"Yeah…. I have."

"For when?!" Now he was mad. "Certainly not tonight!"

"Actually I do. And for the other deaths of the victims as well."

"Do continue."

"When the first call came in about Lindsay Bundy, I was at home, getting ready for school." His smug smile returned.

"I don't suppose you have anyone who can verify this? A live person?"

"Actually I do." His smile faded away and his gaze turned hard.

"And who might that be?"

"Edward." Now he looked confused.

"Who?" I jerked my head towards the door.

"My father's partner." He connected the dots pretty quickly.

"Is that so?" I nodded.

"You wouldn't mind if I asked him about it?"

"No." He didn't seem too pleased with my response.

"What about the other victims?" I sighed.

"My roommate and I were the ones to find the second victim. When the call came for the thirds one, I was with Edward."

"And he'll confirm that too?" I nodded and put my feet up beside me. Newton leaned back in the chair, observing me.

"This sounds very convincing but you've got to see that I don't believe you." I sighed, feeling frustrated.

"What's there to believe? I have witnesses on all four accounts. I couldn't have been with them and killed someone. It's not physically possible." Newton didn't have any more time. The door opened with a slam and Charlie stepped in.

"Okay! You've had your minutes. You need to leave now." Newton smirked and got up, stopping right in front of Charlie.

"You'll be hearing from me again." And then he left. Charlie slammed the door shut and I was very aware that Edward wasn't with him.

"What did you tell him?" I shrugged.

"That I didn't do it. Stop pacing dad." Charlie sighed and sat down in his chair.

"I'm just so stressed. I don't know what to make of anything."

"Dad. How do you solve cases?" He looked up at me, confused.

"What do you mean? We have to look over all the evidence-"

"No. I mean; how do _you_ do it? Do you rely fully on evidence and witnesses?" He nodded.

"Those are the only logical reasoning's." Why did he have to be so old fashioned?

"You know it's not."

"Bella. Don't do this now. I don't like psychology and I will definitely not rely on it in a case like this. That's absurd!"

"It's not. You are so close minded it's amazing you get any kind of work done."

"Okay then. Convince me I'm crazy."

"Kay." I took a deep breath and picked the first character I could think of. "That lawyer? He overcompensate every aspect of his life. He knows he's never been on the handsome side – and because he was bullied in school – he feels that he needs to bring back the masculinity he lost. So he wears expensive suits, makes himself look as professional as possible. His shoes are real leather, Italian." So far, Charlie didn't look convinced but he was interested, that I could tell.

"He matches his socks to the color of his suit, to appear taller. He wears a fake Rolex because, trying to keep up with his extravagant lifestyle – which he feels he needs in order to be in control and have people fear and look up to him as a change – he had to sell the real one. I'm pretty sure he's betting on racehorses. He's not married, not because he doesn't want to, it's that he's just too picky. With the personality and looks that he's got – surprisingly – not that many want to be associated with him." I finished, knowing there was so much more to tell but, unfortunately, not everything can be read about a person in just five minutes. Though I wish it was that way.

Charlie sat quiet, his lips pursed in thought.

"You can tell if he was bullied?" I nodded, remembering something else.

"Yeah. He used to wear these huge and hideous black horn glasses. They took up most of his face. He used to say they were prescription but after a few years, even he stopped believing that. Now he settled for tinted contacts to make his eyes more visible and intimidating."

"Mhm."

"Come on. You've gotta admit. It's a little impressive."

"If it's true."

"You could ask him but I'm fairly sure he'll deny everything. He can't take that hit to his pride."

"And what are your thoughts about the killer? What makes him tick?" Was he really asking for my help?

I resembled a goldfish for a few seconds before the words piled out.

"Let me just ask this question first. Why?" Charlie looked confused.

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why did the killer do all of this? Give me at least one rational reason." Charlie barked a humorless laugh.

"If I had that, we'd be a lot closer to finding out the 'who' and putting an end to all this." I rolled my eyes and stood up, my limbs ached.

"Just think about it. I'm gonna find a bathroom." As I closed the door behind me, I became ultra aware that I was wearing ugg boots to a dress. A dress which still held darkening spots all over. And I was also aware that it was getting lighter outside and more and more people started to arrive.

Hurrying down a too long corridor, shying away from any and all looks of strangers, I finally found a bathroom. Dropping down to my knees, I peered underneath the stalls. They were all empty.

As I caught a look of myself in the mirror above the sink, I didn't recognize myself anymore. I was much too pale and the purple circles underneath my eyes contrasted starkly with the rest of my features. I never noticed how long my hair had gotten.

But what I did notice I tried to look away from, without much success. The dress was ruined, along with my knees which sported longs gashes of red rims which I knew would leave scars. My legs were still trembling and it was hard to stand horizontal. Though I managed by leaning against the sink.

As I stood in the silent room, feeling more alone than anything, I suddenly had the odd urge to cry. I wasn't a person who usually cried. I tried not to be so emotional, knowing that it never did any good. It only dehydrated you. People couldn't be brought back by crying. Things did get fixed by crying.

I knew all of this and yet I felt tears in my eyes and my throat closed up, an imaginary lump formed at the base. When did I get this soft?

A noise, coming form the door, alerted me someone was coming in. A white plastic screen cut off the immediate sight of the other person. But I didn't have to wonder too long.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

Edward came around the screen, holding a bunch of fabrics. He reached them out to me, I accepted. They were clothes. My clothes.

"I thought you would want to change. I know you hate dresses."

"Thanks." I stared at the black items in wonder. "How did you get these?" I was sure I hadn't left them at his place.

"FBI agent, remember?" I shrugged and then looked at him.

"Did Charlie tell you to stay away from me?" The question caught him of guard but he tried not to let it show. I didn't break our eye contact. "Don't lie to me. Please." He did ask but he did look away and that was answer enough. I huffed in amazement.

"I can't believe this," I whispered. "You know. I don't know who I'm more pissed at; Charlie for saying that, like I'm sixteen again or you for actually listening to him." He tried to move closer to me but I held up my hand, halting his movements.

"Don't or I'll break something. Preferably your nose. And don't think I won't or can't." He held up his hands in surrender. I held up my finger, twirling it in a circle. Edward looked confused.

"Turn around," I explained. He looked at me incredulously.

"Are you serious?" I smirked.

"Oh, very." He sighed but turned and I started peeling the dress off. It felt like a second skin. I'm amazed I even fit into it at all.

"What did he want? The lawyer."

"Nothing enlightening. Telling me I'm a murderer and I should confess and get – what was it? – 20 years. Eligible of parole in 10. The look on his face was priceless when I told him I had an alibi for at least two of the murders, was priceless."

"He said that?" Edward turned around. I'd just gotten the tank top on. I was too hot to get the hoodie right now. I nodded.

"You told him, didn't you?" I nodded again and looked nervously towards the door.

"What?"

"Are there a lot of people out there?" I bit my lip. I didn't want people to stare at me like I was a zoo exhibit.

"Not too many. Do you want me to leave?"

"No." I spoke too quickly and noticed the corner of his lips twitch.

"How…" I started but when I noticed my voice was about to crack, I stopped.

"Yes?"

"How did it happen?" I didn't have to elaborate.

"Massive blood loss."

"Believe it or not. But I can handle it."

"She was stabbed over 40 times." I tried not to wince but it was hard. I finally nodded.

"An overkill," I muttered.

"There's more. She had a word. Unnecessary."

It only took me a second to understand. I sniffed and the tears fell slowly down my cheeks. I started shaking my head and running a hand through my hair.

"What?" Edward asked frantically. Trying to understand my reaction.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." My words were mumbled through tears but I knew he heard them anyway.

"Of course not." I shook my head.

"No. This wasn't supposed to happen to _her_."

"You understand it?" I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut, holding a hand over my heating forehead.

"I was supposed to be home. That's what it means. She didn't have to die." I held the side of the sink so hard my fingertips turned numb.

"No. You can't think like that."

"But it's true," I almost screamed, my tears had stopped by now.

"Okay, Bella. Listen to me. You're the most rational person I've ever met. This is not rational. This is what he wants. For you to question yourself." I tried to ignore him, to let myself fill up in pity and self disgust but some part of me knew he was right. It wasn't my fault. It was a psychotic lunatic's and I couldn't think I've just killed one of best friends because I was out drinking. That's one hell of a way for karma to work.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Good. Now tell me about the killer."

"What about it?"

"Think for a moment. Why would he even want to kill you or your friend in the first place?"

"Because…. Because we're getting close." I whispered the last part and Edward nodded.

"To get in the house, you'd have to have the code for the alarm."

"How many has it?"

"Me, of course. Alice, Angela, Charlie, you, Jasper." I tried to recall which other people I had told it to but came up short.

"What about a key?"

"We keep one outside; taped to the back of the lamp next to the door." I took a deep breath.

"So let's establish it's easy to gain access to the house." Edward nodded, trying to see where I was going with this. "But let's forget that for a moment. What we need is a motive. Every victim is different. Age, appearance, back-story." Another nod. "But serial killers always have a pattern, something that ticks them off. I am pretty sure it's their life choices."

"Pretty sure?" I ignored him.

"The word on them signifies how they've chosen to live their life. Lindsay was working as a prostitute and in the eyes of the killer, that was worthy of death. Tommy was a drug addict, and Annie was a self abuser." Something clicked in me. It seemed so simple now. So juvenile.

"They're all sinners."

"Everybody sin."

"Yes. But everyone has ideas about what kinds of sins are bad enough to kill for. I was wrong. I was getting close but that wasn't the reason I should have died. It's because of us."

"Excuse me?"

"Liars are sinners and we've been lying for months."

"What are you saying?"

"Someone must have found out. Someone who knows me."

* * *

**AN: Wow… I am so slow. I'll try and not let the update take this long again. But, you know, sometimes life gets a hold of you. **


	14. On My Own

**AN: So I am really sorry for this incredibly overdue update. I blame my sister for making me watch Legend of the Seeker and as usual, I became obsessed with the show and then another one came and another one. I'm such a dork when it comes to tv shows. Oh well… **

**And another thing, I don't know shit about psychology and reading peoples' behavior. I'm just trying to make this story sound as believable as possible and if anyone wants to correct me – go ahead. **

* * *

_On My Own _

**  
BPOV **

"Bella. Stop it. You're not making any sense." I ignored him, images running through my memory like a movie.

"Assuming what I just explained is true – which, of course, it is – I know the killer. But what I don't know is how she could have found out about us. I mean, I haven't told anyone, not even Alice and if I did, she would have been the first one to kn-"

"Wait! What?!" I looked up with raised brows at Edward. He was staring at me with shock.

"She?" After hesitating a few seconds, I nodded.

"I think the killer's a woman." Edward didn't look convinced.

"Female serial killers are very rare."

"But not unheard of."

"It's very farfetched."

"So?"

"We need to be realistic."

"How is this unrealistic?"

"We're talking about a woman killing four people, maybe even more that we don't know about."

"So? You don't think women can be capable of killing?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it. Stop being so fucking naïve Edward. Women are as capable of murder as men. It's just that we prefer to ruin someone's life instead of ending it."

"I don't want to argue. Why do you think it's a she?"

"The way the people are murdered. Men have a tendency to use their own hands or – if necessary – some form of batting weapon. They like to be in control and feel the pain they are inflicting. It's very rare for men to use knifes as weapons… But I've been trying to come up with some sort of inkling as to who it is but I've got nothing. No one screams killer."

Edward leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Let's just forget for one second-" The door opened and a female agent stopped dead in the doorway, looking around as if unsure whether or not she stepped into the right room. Edward took that as a cue for us to leave so he grabbed my arm gently and lead me out of here. The floor was filling with people but we made our way to Edward's office quickly enough not to have anyone notice us.

Once inside and the door locked, Edward sat down and looked at me expectantly. I sat down in the comfortable black chair and pulled my knees close to me, thinking quietly.

"Let's just forget for one second about who it could be."

"And?"

"And tell me what makes this person tick."

"I don't-"

"Bella you're smart and I'm confident that if you just think about it, you know this person." Biting my lip in thought, I started to look over the evidence.

"Well… assuming it's a girl, and I really think it is, she's got to be close to my age."

"Why?"

"Because she knows me quite well some way or another and unless it's the 69 year old woman behind the counter at the bookstore I visit about once a week, it's safe to assume she's in her twenties." Edward nodded approvingly and let me continue.

"She is… damaged. She's had a rough childhood. She would have had minimum to no father figure. She's an only child and her mother was an avid drinker – blaming her daughter for her father's disappearing act and sometimes taking it out on her child. I think that her dad must have left when she was around seven or eight, maybe even nine but no older than ten. Despite her mother's constant disappointment, she would still do her best in school. But that changed when she entered high school. Education didn't have a meaning anymore. She didn't care about being the perfect daughter anymore. But even though her mother still beat her up, she couldn't stop loving her. She developed Stockholm syndrome and started hating her father for disappearing and never returning." I stopped talking about thought. For a second time that night, something in me clicked.

"But that wouldn't have made her violent. She probably shoplifted from time to time but she wouldn't have killed anyone. Something from when she finished high school and now must have set her off."

"What set's someone off?"

"Many things. But one of the strongest emotions comes from death of a loved one. I think her mother died and that's what slowly set her in motion."

"But why would she kill these people?"

"I don't know. Maybe she feels they are ruining and wasting their lives like her mother did. No that's not it. Something else must have happened."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Who do you know fits this description?" I looked at him incredulously.

"No one of course. If I did I'd force her into therapy or something. She wouldn't be honest about her past. She'd probably make up stories about just how wonderful her life… really… is." My voice thinned down and I never admitted this to anyone, not even today, but someone's picture popped into my head. At the moment it seemed too farfetched. But what I would soon learn was that I just saw the face of the killer.

**Killers POV **

I am fuming.

That stupid bitch! Think she can outsmart me?! How dare she?! I am smarter than her and that Ivy League education she has. She acts all perfect but deep down she's as scarred as everyone else. She's no better than that whore of a mother she had. She's not going to get away a second time. I'm not going to allow it. She'll never understand until it's time. And then it'll be too late. Then I'm going to laugh and watch how the fear will spread out through her eyes. That's the best part. The pupils dilate, as if the eyes are the first to know the body will cease to function soon.

It's almost time now.

That's what I keep telling myself but with every second going by, as I hear the clock tick, makes me squirm just a little. She would figure it out eventually. I've given her everything she needed; the overly happy childhood; the one including two point two kids, a white picket fence, a golden retriever and two happy parents, one working while the mother stays home to fend the kids whatever they desired.

I still can't believe she bought any of it. Maybe she didn't. Doesn't matter anymore.

It's not like I truly did anything wrong. They all deserved to die. Prostitutes can't be allowed to live. They spread disease and unfaithfulness throughout the world. They are worth nothing and shouldn't expect anything else out of life.

And that druggie. He was just too stupid to even figure out what I was doing until I held the knife up to his face and asked him to make a run for it.

And the third one, well, it's not like I didn't do her any favors. She was just too weak to actually do it herself.

Weaklings, all of them. They don't know about having it rough. They only complained about how hard life was treating them. Fucking weaklings. They wouldn't complain if they spent one day in my shoes. They'd worship life. But their paths were already laid, nothing more for them to do than die in agonizing pain.

They were just there for practice anyway. Something to keep me focused on what needs to be done.

Isabella will be the last one. And I'll actually get away with it. I'll be the one that they talk about in years to come. The one who managed to murder an FBI agent's daughter right under his nose. I'll be a legend. I'll read the books on a beach far away, drinking a margarita and thinking about my quest and looking over my trophies.

I can move on, start over and lay this all behind me. Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll have what I wanted and told people for so long.

Of course, it all depends on how fast little _Bella_ can catch on.

**BPOV **

"Bella?" I shook my head and looked up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just got a little carried away." The image still tormented me and I couldn't let it go.

"I think that I need some air." Edward got up as I did but I held up my hand. "Alone." He finally nodded and I left the office, making a beeline for the elevator. I pressed the button thousands of times but it never got there fast enough. I sprinted down the stairs as fast as I could.

Once I got to the lobby I realized how insane my appearance would look; wearing sweats and a tank top in the middle of February. I couldn't go out like this.

To the side I spotted something which made me glad that the "old-fashioned" world hadn't died out completely; a payphone. I scurried my way down the hallway and lifted the receiver. I didn't have to think twice about who to call.

"Hello?" The familiar voice made me relax on the spot.

"Jacob, its Bella. I need your help."

**EPOV **

I leaned back in my chair, thinking about everything Bella just told me. The killer's a woman? It didn't seem to ad up somehow. Not to get sexist but Angela Webbers murder was brutal and overdone.

I didn't want to think about what Bella had said, about how it was supposed to have been her. As soon as she said it, I couldn't stop picturing her on that cold floor, covered in blood; her back completely hacked away and strays of flesh hanging at her sides. Those memories would haunt me forever and they never even happened.

After a few more minutes of thinking, the door bursts open with too much force and I was not surprised to see Charlie walk in.

"Where's Bella?" He'd calmed down since last I saw him but I could still detect the underlying tension in his tone.

"Relax. She's just getting some air. She'll be back soon."

"Don't tell me to relax. And I told you to stay away from her."

"That'll be a bit difficult now don't you think?"

"Don't get smart with me."

"You can't control her life."

"I've never-"

"Yeah you have-"

"Don't tell me how to be with my daughter. What? You think you know her better than I do? Please Masen… don't be naïve. She's barely shared anything about her life with me since her mother- Why would she ever confide in you?" I knew it was meant rhetorically but I still answered.

"Maybe she felt like she couldn't trust you." Charlie started shaking his head.

"I'm not going to-" The door opened for a second time and we both turned our heads. It was one of the guys at the lobby, he wore a confused expression.

"Sorry to disturb you but your suspect just walked out the building and into an unidentified vehicle."

"Excuse me?!" Charlie screamed and then turned towards me. "You said she was getting some air!"

"She was!" I screamed back, feeling a migraine brewing. Charlie looked away from me; his murderous eyes gleamed at me one last time.

"What are you still doing here?! Go and get the security tapes!" The lobbyist looked frightened but ran out of the office as fast as he could.

----------------

Not five minutes later stood we in the dark space of the basement, looking through the previous half hour on seven different cameras, trying to find Bella anywhere, somewhere. For this being an FBI building, the security itself was laughable. The cameras were outdated with no sound, no color and absolutely no sharp.

"There! Freeze the picture." I said, pointing at the upper right corner of the screen.

Bella stood pressed to the wall, keeping her head down and her hair around her face.

"What's she doing?" Charlie squinted at the screen, as if that would make the image better.

"Is there another angle?" I asked patiently but my voice was too even and the tech noticed. He started typing nervously.

Another image popped up but it was worse than the previous. Another one came but it didn't have Bella in hit. But apparently fourth time's a charm because once the next image appeared on the screen; it was obvious what she was doing.

"She's talking on the pay phone."

"I want that number!" Charlie scream so loudly the tech jumped in his chair. But I shook my head.

"That's gonna take too long. Can you get a picture of the car? Maybe we can get a license plate. Assuming she went with whomever she was calling." The sound of fingers typing filled the room. I turned away from the different computer screen, my eyes felt like they were burning and I've never wanted a drink more than I did in that moment.

"I'm sorry but this is the best I can do," the tech revealed, finally. Six different images showed how Bella stood waiting just inside until an old red beat-up tuck pulled up to the curb. She walked briskly to the truck and got in. she barely had the door closed before the car pushed away from the side of the road and began driving south.

While I couldn't have been more surprised, Charlie didn't share my concerns.

"Jacob?"

**BPOV **

The car pulled away from the sidewalk and I finally looked at the person who – even though I hadn't seen him in years and completely alienated myself from – still came and helped me as if this was normal, like we'd never spent any time apart.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" I thought about it but decided not to. Jacob shouldn't be plagued with what I thought I knew and what I had seen over the past week.

"Not really," I answered in a meek voice.

"Did you do something?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"No. I didn't do anything. I just needed to get away, that's all."

"You're a horrible liar."

"What are you talking about? I'm an excellent liar."

"Not to me. I know you, remember. I can see through all you're lies, no matter how good they may be." Jacob beamed at me but I couldn't muster up a smile in return.

"I can't tell you." He focused back on the road and seemed to be thinking deeply.

"Okay. I can accept that. Just tell me where you're going."

"Madison subway."

"And then?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to know." I had always praised that Jacob was the one person I could talk to about anything in the world and I knew that statement hurt him.

"I'm sorry. But its better is you don't know."

"You're not… you're not running away are you?" I couldn't help but chuckle, but it only sounded sad to my ears.

"No Jake. I'm not running away. You'll probably find out soon enough."

"What does that mean?"

"Patience," I said with a tired sigh as I huddled deeper into the seat, trying to get some friction on my freezing arms. I wish I had brought the hoodie with me.

At the stop sign, Jacob let go of the wheel, shrugged out of his jacket and handing it to me.

"Thanks," I whispered and pulled it over my arms and zipped it up.

We drove in silence for another red light before another sound came forth.

"Jake, I just… uhm… I'm sorry for not… for pushing you away. That wasn't fair and I should have tried harder." I kept my eyes staring forward and waited nervously for his reply.

"You know… I used to be so mad at you. I told myself I hated you… But… I never thought of just how much you were hurting. I just thought it would get better with time… That was stupid and immature to think but I was just a kid, I didn't know any better."

"It's okay."

"No it's not. I should have been more patient and not asked how you were doing every five second."

"Probably not. I just wanted you to know that if I could do it differently, I wouldn't have shut you out. I need you to know that." I stared at him until he turned my way with a worried expression.

The car stopped and I saw the sign leading to Madison station.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I shrugged, trying to act casual.

"We haven't seen each other for such a long time… I thought it was appropriate." I reached for the door handle when Jacob grabbed my arm, making me turn towards him.

"You act like we'll never see each other again." I forced a small smile.

"Of course we will." I opened the door and shivered as the cold air swept in.

"At least take some money. I'm assuming you don't even have any for the train." He dug in his pocket and handed me a small wad of bills. I reluctantly took them.

"Bye Bella."

"Goodbye Jake." And then I was out of the car.

----------------

The compartment was cold and I huddled close in Jacob's jacket, trying not to look too suspiciously like a runaway. I could only muster up a tired and bored look.

I keep going over from the time I left Edward's office to ending up in a subway station, waiting for the tarns to arrive and then finally getting on it. Nothing made sense anymore and everything got more and more confusing. It just… It couldn't be. Or so I kept telling myself.

I don't even know why I didn't tell Edward about my thoughts. I must have gone mental because going to a person whom I thought I could trust, if nothing then just a little, to see if she's really a serial killer, I must be mad. That's what I reasoned with. As soon as this was over and that I was going to be proven wrong – because, let's face it, the whole idea was just ridiculous – I would be forced into therapy and numerous on psych meds.

The light flickered above me and made me realize that the train was stopping, at my stop.

I rose from my seat, feeling my legs shake with the effort after such a long time without any proper rest.

The station was littered with people scrambling to go to work or school. It felt so alien to watch them all, so busy and into their own lives that no one paid any attention to anyone around them. I turned away from them all and got up to ground level.

The sun was gone now. Huge gray clouds formed the sky and the wind whipped past me so fast I thought I would freeze on the spot. But I didn't, obviously. I managed to get myself to where I was supposed to be.

It was so quiet except for the wind. I knew she'd be here. She was probably watching me as I thought in my own little world.

I forced myself not to be intimidated by the unfamiliar and frightening place. I'd been there before but somehow, it seemed eerier, more sinister this time around.

I think that's when I first realized I had been right from the moment I thought of her. But I wasn't willing to admit it to myself. If I had, I wouldn't have gone in there. I would have turned around, yelled fire and sent the police storm into the empty space, for I knew she would only be home if I were to walk in alone.

**EPOV **

"Who's Jacob?" I asked, my voice more suspicious than I wanted it to be.

"Why would she call him?" Charlie spoke quietly to himself. "They don't keep in touch anymore, do they? Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"Who's Jacob?" I asked again, not going to be ignored any longer.

"He's a childhood friend of Bella. His dad and I were good friends, he died two years back."

"Why would Bella call him?"

"I don't know. Right after Renee- Bella stopped talking to most of her friends and the ones she saw grew tired of her 'I don't care anymore' attitude and eventually stopped talking to her. When she left for college she cut all her ties to her life. I couldn't even get her on the phone for over three months."

Though I wanted to keep talking about the Bella he knew, we needed to find her… now.

"Do you have a number for Jacob?" Charlie snapped back to reality and finally nodded and took out his cell phone.

After some unbearable seconds, Charlie pulled away his phone and pressed a button.

"He didn't answer."

"So call again."

Repeating the previous motion, Charlie listened longer and then someone answered.

"Jacob? It's Charlie. Listen, have you heard from Bella lately? No? That's odd because we have footage of a vehicle looking suspiciously a lot like yours leaving the front of the FBI building not fifteen minutes ago… When? What did she want? I don't care… she's my daughter and I need to find her now! Where did you take her? Dammit! Okay. Stay near your phone, we need to get a statement soon enough. I'll call you later."

Charlie hung up and started yelling at the tech.

"I need to know what lines run at Madison/Wabash station and which trains left fifteen minutes ago to fifteen minutes forward." The tech pressed a few keys and a ray of pop-ups littered the screen.

"The Brown, Green, Orange, Pink and Purple lines run through Madison." I cursed Bella mentally for making this so much harder for us.

The tech started rambling up names and times so fast I barely followed though I knew Charlie did with that focused expression on his face.

"She could have gone anywhere. In most stations you can transfer to almost any other line." The tech seemed to give up.

"Which one closest to Madison overlaps with another line?" I asked, leaning closer to the computer.

"Where are you going with this?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Not sure."

"Not knowing which direction to look, there are five places along the Green line where you can transfer."

"How many lines cross in Madison?"

"Four."

"What's towards Clinton?" Charlie asked to which the tech shrugged.

"Mostly skyscrapers, shopping and residential apartments."

"And Roosevelt?"

"Mostly abandoned industrial buildings." That's why I thought the name sounded so familiar. I remember Bella once telling me about a friend living in loft. I only remember it because she forced me to pick her up because it was – and I quote – 'creepy as a fucking forest'.

"I know where she's going." Charlie whipped his head my direction.

"How-"

"Does it really matter right now?! Get a picture of the buildings." The tech typed furiously and a second later a satellite picture of the entire industrial area came up on the screen.

Searching for the harbor, I quickly found the building I was looking for.

"There. I'm not exactly sure but I'd in one of those five buildings."

"Are you sure that's where she'll be?" I took a deep breath.

"No. But Bella's been gone for over half an hour. It's either going there or searching the entire city. You pick."

**BPOV **

I was oddly calm as I walked up the metallic stairs outside the house and in through the worn door. They told me it was adrenalin but I've felt adrenaline and that was not it. I would never admit it but it was finality. I was not prepared to – if I did find what I thought – walk away.

"Hello?" I called out quietly. There was no answer. I hadn't expected one.

Trying to ignore the looming silence, I focused on the interior. From the outside, this looked like an abandoned shoe factory but from the inside however, it looked surprisingly normal.

The brick walls and cemented floors looked cold but with all the nick racks and various black/white paintings, it looked cozy. Too cozy. It freaked me out and I was more aware of the silence than ever.

My shoes sounded too much against the naked floor and my pulse quickened.

I left the kitchen and wandered until I came to the living room. The blinds were down, casting rays of what little light there is outside onto the floor. With the exception from the furniture's, the space was empty. I don't know what I had been expecting. Maybe finding out my imagination had gone completely haywire.

Looking back at the kitchen to see if she wasn't standing there, ready to hack me to bits with a butcher's knife, there was movement behind me. Leaning against the bedroom doorway, she smirked at me, or more like leered.

"Hey Bella." Her voice was light, as if she was ready to start laughing in delight. Swallowing hard, I answered in and even voice.

"Hi Lauren."

* * *

**AN: So who saw that coming? Answer honestly… **


	15. Good Enough

**AN: So I'm sorry if the story isn't how it's been written before. I'm done with this story now and this will be the final chapter. I've actually been writing on a new story called **_**Sympathy for the Devil**_** and I have a little more to do on it, before I can start to publish. Anywho… here it is! **

* * *

_Good Enough _

**LPOV **

It all started about two years ago. I wasn't living in Chicago by then. I was home in Texas. My mother had just finished another can of beer and as much as I wanted to help her, I couldn't.

Over time as she kept beating me, she yelled how I ruined her life. If I hadn't come along, she and my dad would have been okay. But I know she means nothing of it. She's just mad because he was a weak piece of shit that couldn't take care of anyone, not even himself. He should have been better. He should have taken better care up us but he was too selfish to do that.

And then… then she had to drive to get more alcohol. And I wasn't there to save her, to stop her. If she'd just beat me a little less I would have been there, to either be crushed like her or maybe made her stop the car. And then she maybe would have been alive today.

I couldn't possibly explain just how much I miss her. She was my mother for god's sake. She was everything and now she was gone and I was all alone.

But that wasn't the worst part.

When I went through her stuff to determine what should be thrown out, I found letters, a lot of them. From my father. Or at least someone who claimed to be him.

This made no sense to me. Why would he contact us? He wanted nothing to do with us. He was too selfish and weak to take care of us. But the letters were long and he openly talked about how he wanted to know me; that I was his kid too. Nothing made sense to me. But he gave an address so I looked it up and it was in Chicago.

I don't know why but I went to see him, packed everything I owned for I knew I would never come back to Texas.

He said how sorry he was for leaving, that he didn't love my mother anymore, that she was the reason they split. It was all a lie, of course. My mother said he was weak. If he truly wanted me, he wouldn't have left. He would have stayed and waited it out. My mother could have gotten better. If she had just gone to some meetings she would have been able to stop. She would have.

He tells me he wanted to come back and even tried one but my mother wouldn't let him.

Another lie.

He says he's been good, not doing drugs anymore, not drinking anymore. He even says he's been seeing someone for some time. She's married but she's going to tell her husband and they'd get a divorce.

For as long as he talked, I was in a muted alternate universe.

It wasn't bad enough he'd abandoned me most my life but now he was screwing a married woman! I could understand my so-called father but that woman… she's married! Marriage is supposed to be sacred and not be toyed with.

I saw red as I left his place and got into my rental car.

I went back to the motel and thought… a lot.

After a day of only thinking about this woman and her poor husband who was living life, clueless of his wife's adulteress ways. I had to do something about it.

I went to see her one afternoon.

She opened the door and smiled at me. I wanted to punch her.

"Hello. Do I know you?"

"No. But I believe you know my father, though."

"Wow. So you're Lauren? You're all grown up."

"As opposed to what?"

"Well I've only seen baby pictures so far." He's been telling her about me? Somehow, that made me angrier.

"I would ask you in but I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Yeah. Must be a bitch keeping the affair a secret." She stared at me before I pulled out my Stanley knife, keeping it up to her throat.

"What are you-"

"Don't ask silly questions and get in."

She never saw the sun again. All the things I did to her, it was all worth it as I heard her noises of pain.

Beautiful.

When it was over and she'd finally stopped breathing I sat down on the staircase and looked at her. What a whore. She didn't deserve to live. She was a sinner and she'd go to hell either way. Why delay the inevitable?

After a few minutes I got up but as I came to the door, a slam of another door halted my movements.

"Mom!" Someone called out. Mom? I crept closer to the door and opened it slowly.

A girl was standing in the kitchen, with her hand on an open refrigerator door. She barely looked to be 18.

I didn't feel guilty for what I'd just done. I felt angrier, somehow. I can't explain it. Everything I'd just whipped out at her mother, I felt for her daughter and nothing would have made me happier than to stab this knife into her back also. But this wasn't the time and I knew it.

As the girl retrieved up the stairs, I sneaked out of the house and got over the street and into my rental. I drove off fast and I'm not sure how but I managed to get myself back at the motel.

I turned on the TV, looking for anything regarding what I had done.

It wasn't until later that night. The first report came in.

Of course things don't always go as they planned.

**BPOV **

Lauren continued to lean against the doorway, observing my every movement.

"How wonderful of you to visit," she said, her voice smooth with a hint of a southern accent. I said nothing.

"I don't get many visits you know." She cooked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes.

"I knew you'd come… alone."

"Yeah?" She nodded.

"You're so naïve. Why did you come here alone?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do." I shook my head. Her smile turned into a frown.

"Still lying I see. That's unfortunate."

"Why did you kill them?" Her smirk returned now and she pushed herself off the doorway and took a step forward.

"Maybe they talked to me the wrong way? Maybe I was just having a bad day? Maybe I was just bored? It really doesn't matter anymore."

"Sure it does. People don't just wake up and decide to kill four people."

"No. That's true," she sighed, making a scene of looking troubled and searching for an answer. "And why should I tell you? You were smart enough to "expose me" so I'm sure you're smart enough to figure this one out." I shook my head.

"I'm not gonna play this game."

"But games are so fun."

"You really think so? Because you're about to lose yours." Lauren straightened up and narrowed her eyes menacingly.

"What do you mean?"

"The FBI must know by now I'm gone. They're gonna come look for me."

"Like they know where to look." I opened my mouth to talk but shut it immediately.

"Because no one knows about this place… right?" I stayed quiet.

"You stupid bitch! You told him?" She took a step forward and I took one back. "Well… it seems I've underestimated you. Don't worry though, before they even get here, you'll be long gone."

"They'll know it was you."

"Sure. But by then I'll be halfway to Mexico and once I've crossed the border, there is nothing anyone can do." She was right about that, of course. But they would get here in time. But as the seconds ticked, I became more and more worried that Edward would have forgotten about this place.

"You are the only one, you know."

"The only one what?"

"The only one that counts." With that, Lauren reached down on the couch and that's when I saw a Jason-like machete gleaming in the light.

"Do you like it?" I said nothing but swallowed against the large lump in my throat.

"It used to belong to my father. Apparently he had quite the little obsession with knifes." I take another step back. "I can understand why he would find this so fascinating. It's beautiful. And speaking of my father, this used to be his home. I know, it's so… _homey_. Though I'm not surprised, he liked to pay house with people he shouldn't be involved with." She stopped walking and looked purposefully at me, her head cocked to the side, as if thoughtful of some information.

"I don't know."

"About what?"

"If I should tell you this."

"Why wouldn't you. You're going to kill me either way… what's the difference?" Lauren nodded.

"You're right. I think it's time. Wow… you have no idea how long I've been wanting to talk about this and having _anyone_ to talk to… at all." She started touching the machete like it was made of glass. "You know… my mother died about two years ago."

"I'm sorry about that." If she's as psychotic as I thought, talking might be the only way to not get shopped up in tiny pieces.

"Are you?" I nodded. "I'm sure you won't when you hear the rest. When she died, I found my father and went to visit him, here, actually. He was so pathetic. Saying how he's changed and all that crap. He hadn't change." She looked into my eyes as she said the next. "He was seeing someone, you know."

"Why's that bad?"

"Because-!" She exclaimed but stopped herself before speaking more calmly. "Because he was seeing a married woman. He talked so animatedly about her… it made me sick. So I had to check it out. But not before getting rid of the helping adulterer." Lauren broke eye contact and stared at the kitchen floor. "That's where I took a knife and slit his throat. Then I sat down opposite him and watched how all the blood flooded out of him. When he finally stopped breathing, I took his body down into the basement and sliced him up into pieces. Then I wrapped each piece in a garbage bag and filled it with rock and dumped it in the harbor." My face had drained or all color by the time she finished and I thought I would throw up from the mental images.

"I'm sorry," she didn't sound it. "Was that too much information?" I didn't answer but continued to stare at her.

"I suppose it would be to someone like you. But you know, that's not the whole story. You see, after I killed my father and got rid of his body and the evidence; I took a little trip to the suburbs. It was a quiet afternoon. The sun was shining and barely a cloud was visible… As she opened the door, I became enraged." Lauren smirked at some inner thought and then looked me straight in the eye. "Your mother was very pretty, Bella."

I couldn't breathe.

I knew what she meant by that. Of course I knew. Everything fell into pieces now. It all made sense and I couldn't have been more broken about it. I couldn't even think it. It seemed too surreal.

"That's why you took the job at Walmart," I whispered to myself. Lauren nodded in appreciation.

"I needed to get close to you, earn your trust. I'd be so much more enjoyable that way."

"Then why'd you kill the rest of them? Why go through all the trouble?" Lauren sighed.

"They meant nothing. They were nothing. They didn't deserve to live. They were disgracing their lives, for what? Money? That's not a good enough reason. And then I saw you and that man. It wasn't until later I found out he was your father's new partner. That made me angrier than you being your mother's daughter. You were screwing him in secret. You were ashamed of your "relationship". So why should you be so privileged. That's when I started this whole thing." Lauren took a step towards me and since my back was to the wall, I couldn't move an inch.

"I wasn't ashamed-"

"Stop lying! Don't commit anymore sins!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Lauren raised her hands to her hair and pulled at it in anger. She finally let go and lifted the machete, pointing it at me.

"I need you to say it."

"Say what?" I whisper, hoping Edward has figured out where I am by now. It suddenly seems so stupid, coming here by myself. I really don't know why. I must have been momentarily insane.

"Say you're a liar and we can end this. Maybe you're even worthy enough to go to heaven."

"Shit, you're crazy," I whisper in pity. If she'd just had help and if someone would have just seen some signs, any signs, maybe Lauren might have been better now. Be able to live her life without this enormous guilt on her conscience.

"I. Am. Not. Crazy!" She yells and I swear the windows moved.

"You need help."

"Help? What kind of help? The one where they put you in the loony-bin? No thank you. I'm very fine right here."

"They will know it was you."

"Are you sure about that?" She takes a step forward.

"Yes." But my voice cracks and Lauren smiles darkly, taking another step forward.

"You see. I think that after not finding your body, your poor father will eventually go mad and he'll have to be put in an asylum." I shake my head but it has no meaning.

"Just think how horrible his life will be after this. His only living relative will be gone and he will be all alone in the world. Maybe I'll get lucky and they will think you've fled the country. They already suspect you of committing the murders."

"Stop it."

"No I'm having fun." Lauren stalks right up to me and place the blade at my neck. But then she frowns and takes it away, seeming to have some sort of inner battle with herself. With her momentary distraction, I grab at anything behind me and once I have a steady grip – of what I can only assume is some kind of figurine – I smash it as hard as I can into her temple.

Lauren goes down with a noise of pain and I scrambled to get to the machete. But she gets a hold of my legs, making me fall down and I can't reach now. She claws at my legs and I try to kick her away but she's stronger than she looks.

When she finally has the upper hand, Lauren grabs both my arms and knocks her fist into my forehead. I could feel blood trickle down my face.

I manage to get one of my hands free and slam it into her nose. I hear cracking and she lets me go for a second. I get up on two legs and decide to make a run for it but Lauren's fast and she grab a hold of my waist and flings me back.

My head slammed into a wall and the last thing I remember is Lauren's figure leaning over me. Then I blacked out.

There was a distinctive beeping. That's the first thing I heard. I tried to locate its origin and it took some time before I finally realized it was a heart monitor. I try to open my eyes but the light is too bright and I groan softly.

My head is pounding at my left side and I try to raise my hand but it feels too heavy to move. Before I have time to understand and remember why I'm in a hospital, a warm feeling spreads through me and I'm asleep within seconds.

The second time I awoke, it was much darker in the room. The blinds were down but there was no light streaming through the cracks so I assumed it was sometime during the night. I was much more lucid now but my head was still pounding. I tried to lift my left arm but was stopped. I looked down and could see several long tubes strapped to my arm. Frowning, I diverted my gaze to my right and what I saw made me fill with guilt.

Edward sat on a tacky and uncomfortable-looking chair, his head resting on the wall behind him. He was reading something resembling a police report. I simply watched him for a moment before he looked up and saw me awake.

"Hey," he says softly and gets closer, resting his elbows on the mattress. I tried to talk but had to clear my throat several times before being able to make a word.

"What happened?" Great. I sound like I've been smoking for twenty years.

"You don't remember?" I tried to think back but hit a wall.

"Not really."

"What's the last thing you remember?" I sighed heavily.

"I don't know. I was in your office and then I'm with Jake and then it's really cold and then-" I stop, now remembering most details. "Where's Lauren?"

"She's dead."

"How?"

"A bullet to the back of her head."

"I'm confused."

"It took longer than we thought to get there. I remembered the place from when you asked me to pick you up." So he did remember. I'm not sure why but I grew more appreciative of him in that moment. "She was about to um…"

"Kill me?" He winced so softly I barely caught it but nodded nonetheless.

"I should get the doctor." But when he reached for the button, my hand grabbed him and made him sit down again.

"No. They'll just make you leave. Stay."

"Okay," he says reluctantly with a sigh and sits back down.

"Do you know?" I ask in a whisper. Edward's face crows confused.

"Know about what?"

"Why she did all of this?"

"Bella. She was nuts. She thought she was the one to decide whether or not these people deserved to live or die." So he didn't know the absolute real reason.

"She killed my mom," I whisper, almost not hear myself say it.

"What?"

"My mom was having an affair… with her father; she killed him right before her." Edward started into space for a long while and then looked back at me and shook his head.

"Don't think about it now. You need to rest. We'll deal with this later."

"I want it to be over."

"It is over."

Even though it was, to me, it was only a second beginning. My mother's murder was reopened and while my father would not believe the words of Lauren, after divers found the dismembered limbs of Steven Mallory, he couldn't ignore the facts anymore.

I think he felt so guilty; for doing whatever he did to make my mother go to another man and for not being there when she needed him. While he's never been good with talking about her, now, whenever she's mentioned, he quickly changes the subject and I see him close his eyes for just a second, knowing he's trying to erase mental images that won't seem to go away. I do the same, even today.

Not long after getting released from the hospital, I had Edward pack what was left of my stuff and momentarily placing it in his apartment. I've never been back to that house. Alice was a rock and took the time and energy to, all by herself; clean the house and hiring a realtor to sell it. I never appreciated our friendship as much as I did then.

While I tried going back to my old self after things calmed down, there was always someone too interested to leave me alone. I signed to transfer in less than two months.

My father, of course, wasn't happy with this. He wanted me within walking distance, if he could have his way. But I wasn't going to let anyone tell me how to live my life anymore. I feel like I've been a doormat for the better part of my life – just going by everyone else's needs and wants over mine. This transfer was my decision and I swear it's the best one I've ever made in my life. Well… almost.

It's been just over six months and just when I think I'm actually going to be okay, something always reminds me of reality and every memory I have tried to suppress comes back up. Even relocating to Virginia keeps the memories flowing. But at least I'm not alone.

I'm sitting on the white steps, just below the giant sitting figure of Abraham Lincoln. While there's a school tour just inside and people chattering all over, I've never been at a more peaceful place to just sit. My lattes getting colder and I frown at the growing distaste but sips the last nonetheless.

I place the paper mug beside me and let my chin fall into my open palm and I sigh as I watch the water move with the wind. The Beatles blast through my ears and I don't know why but the words are so fitting for this moment.

It's not long before a figure sits down beside me and I turn off my mp3 player. I twist my head to the side and smile at Edward.

"Hey?"

"Hi." He whispers back and leans in and gives me a fast kiss. "How's it going?" I shrug and dig through my bag to get the papers. I hand them over and turn back to the water.

"These are all really nice. Just pick one."

"Don't you even care?"

"It's just an apartment. If we don't like then we'll get another one." I chuckle but it's not really humoristic.

"You make it sound like a goldfish, trading up if it's not good enough."

"I'm actually giving you free reign to get whichever you prefer."

"So?"

"Most people would be thrilled by that."

"I'm not most people," I remind him.

"No you're not," he says with a smile.

* * *

**AN: So I hope it's not too horrible. I am truly sorry it's taking this long and I wish I could have written it better but the words weren't coming to me like they used to and I've been so busy with my other story – which I haven't even published yet. **

**For now, I'm publishing this so that all of you can just get closure. I might go back – later – to make some touchups. **

**Bella and Edward are not married or are going to get married. They're just going to live together. Somehow, I felt the need to have this clarified. Maybe it's because I'm so against marriage myself that even the idea of it makes me frown. **


End file.
